


the hills are alive

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Kid Fic, Nanny Bucky, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's part of a prestigious teacher education program, but he's not doing very well.  The headmaster, Nick Fury, decides he needs a summer job as an au pair to decide if teaching is really what he wants.  Bucky goes to live with Captain Steve Rogers and his brood of children.  (Sound of Music AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I almost can't believe I'm writing this, but it just wouldn't go away. So yes, here is the Steve/Bucky Sound of Music AU no one asked for. In the movie, there are seven children, though the real von Trapps had ten kids, so I took some liberties.

“Mr. Barnes, you were found out of bounds _again_.” Headmaster Fury gave Bucky a deeply unimpressed look. Fury ran the most prestigious teaching program in the world—not the state, not the area, not the country, but the actual whole _world_. There was a very strict schedule for students of the program, and one that Bucky wasn’t very good at sticking to.

It was just—they were all adults, and yet they had people supervising them all the time. In Fury’s program, you had to live in the dormitories and attend classes as well as taking meals with the other students and go to certain study halls at certain times and do your volunteer hours and help with chores around the campus.

Sometimes Bucky just needed to get away from it all, but he wasn’t technically allowed to do that. He was called in for meetings with Fury all the time, even though he honestly tried his hardest to be good.

“Do you even want to be a teacher?” Fury asked, not unkindly. Bucky gave a jerk of surprise.

“Of course I do,” he protested. “Why would I come here if I didn’t?”

Fury looked at him for a long moment, his one eye unblinking, and Bucky tried not to fidget. Fury had known him since he was a kid, and sometimes he felt like he still was a kid when Fury looked at him like that.

“I have an assignment for you,” Fury said evenly. “For the summer break, when we don’t have classes. A friend of a friend needs someone to tutor his children.”

Bucky couldn’t help but make a face. “Tutor his kids over the summer?”

“He won’t be around much. It’s more of an au pair position.”

“You want me to be a _nanny_?” Bucky cried. “Sir, come on, really?”

“I think it’ll be good for you,” Fury said, his tone indicating this wasn’t exactly a request. “These are the kinds of students you’d be teaching once you leave this academy. You can see if it’s truly the right fit for you.”

It took a second for the meaning to sink in. “Are you saying…if I don’t take this, I’m out of the program?”

“Yes.” Fury stopped beating around the bush. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Bucky blew out a breath. “Well, I guess I’ll be taking it then, won’t I?” He couldn’t quite keep the petulance out of his tone.

“This isn’t a punishment, James.” Fury rarely used his first name now that he was a student; it made Bucky look away.

“Where am I going?”

“Salzburg. The Captain has a summer home there.” Fury started gathering up some papers, probably some kind of dossier on the family. Fury ran his school a bit like a spy agency. A lot of the emphasis was taking nonverbal cues, reading between the lines of what students say, to understand the best way to gain students’ trust.

Bucky whistled. “Must be loaded.”

“They are fairly wealthy, yes, as will be the students at the schools you’ll be placed at.” Fury raised his eyebrow. “Money comes in handy when you’re raising eleven children.”

Bucky almost fell out of his chair. “ _Eleven_?” He echoed, voice showing off his borderline panic. How exactly was he supposed to handle eleven kids on his own, all summer long?

Fury smirked a little. “You’ll have more than that in a classroom.”

“I won’t be solely responsible for my students every moment of every day,” Bucky pointed out. Fury just shrugged.

“There’s a cook and cleaning staff on site. Captain Rogers often has his best friend at the home for the summer, and he helps with the children. The main butler is also known to be quite close with the children. None of them are actually the Captain’s biological children. He and his wife had a habit of picking up strays.”

Bucky sighed. “Not like I have a choice anyway, so I guess I’ll figure it out. When do I go?”

“As soon as you pack your bags.”

“Seriously?” Bucky complained. “You’re kicking me out that fast?”

“It’s a summer job, Barnes; most everyone gets one. You’ll have free room and board and get paid every two weeks. You get Sundays off every week.” Fury gave him a frank look. “This is a very good job, James. I had to pull some strings to get it for you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky mumbled, looking at his lap. He knew his background didn’t make him many people’s first choice to take care of their children, especially once they saw him and his missing left arm. A lot of people seemed to think teaching required two hands.

Fury shook his hand and gave him the file he’d need to take with him. Bucky walked up the stairs slowly to his room and started packing. He had to be at the airport in an hour.

 

Bucky read the file Fury gave him while he was on the plane. Of course Fury didn’t bother to mention in their meeting that Captain Rogers’s wife had just _died_ a year ago. Like that wasn’t a bombshell. These kids would probably all be wrecks.

Eleven kids. Bucky didn’t know if he could even name eleven kids under eighteen. Well, he certainly could now, reading their names down the list. Timothy, Gabe, Jim, Jacques, Monty, Clint, Bruce, Tony, James, Thor, and Natasha. By the time he got to the end, he’d forgotten the kids at the beginning. Christ. This was going to be a long summer. They were a mishmash of ages, the oldest nearly eighteen and the youngest barely seven. Bucky was only twenty-seven; he could already foresee some issues with being put in charge of a kid only ten years younger than himself.

He didn’t sleep at all during the long flight, too nervous about what would happen when he got there. He stepped off the plane and saw a tall, thin man holding a sign that read _James Barnes_.

“Hi, Captain, I’m James Barnes,” Bucky said in his politest tone.

“Wonderful.” The man had a British accent; wasn’t the Captain in the US Army? “I’m the butler, Jarvis.”

“Oh.” Bucky could feel his face get hot with a blush. “Well. Nice to meet you, Jarvis.”

“Let’s be on our way,” Jarvis said crisply. “The Captain is leaving tomorrow and he’d like to be sure you’re all settled in before he goes.”

“Wha—well, alright.”

The house they drove up to was utterly _massive_ and obviously very old. The grounds were huge, too, and the back of the house opened up to the lake. _Great_ , Bucky thought. _Gonna spend my summer fishing drowning kids out of the water_.

Jarvis opened the heavy wooden front door and made a sweeping gesture, indicating Bucky should go in, and Bucky took a second to square his shoulders before doing so. Jarvis raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He left Bucky standing in the foyer. Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself. There wasn’t a couch or anything; was he supposed to just stand here?

“Hi,” a voice behind him said, and Bucky turned to see— _wow_. He blinked at the sight in front of him. Tall, blond, and muscular. “I’m Steve.”

Steve. The Captain. “ _You’re_ the Captain?” Bucky blurted. Steve’s ears went a little red.

“Um. Yeah. You can just call me Steve, though.”

“You’re just…young.” Bucky couldn’t quite get his tongue under control. Steve’s blush spread down his neck and Bucky’s eyes followed. Steve rubbed at his forehead.

“I…yeah, I am, I guess. I’m twenty-seven.”

“You have eleven kids,” Bucky pointed out. At that, Steve smiled, but it was a sad, wistful smile.

“Yeah. We traveled a lot and just seemed to keep picking up kids who needed a good home. It was mostly Peggy, I mean—” Steve broke off awkwardly, wincing a little. Peggy was the wife.

They stood in awkward silence for a second. Bucky didn’t know if he should offer condolences. He hadn’t known the woman, and anything he’d say would be an empty platitude. Bucky hated those, and he was willing to bet Steve had already heard enough of them to last a lifetime.

“Well. Um.” Bucky licked his lips. “Can I meet the kids?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Steve smiled sheepishly. “Of course.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Hey, guys, get down here!” Bucky absolutely did _not_ jump at the volume.

But then, suddenly, it sounded like a herd of animals was thundering down the stairs. Kids came spilling down and into the room, racing each other and pushing and yelling. Bucky felt a little winded looking at them all.

“Guys,” Steve chided gently, and the yelling died down almost immediately. “This is your new au pair, James.”

“But we already _have_ a James,” the only girl, Natasha, broke in. She pointed down the line at one of the teenage boys.

“That’s right,” Steve agreed patiently. “More than one person can be named James. Technically Monty's a James, too.”

“That seems really confusing,” the little boy next to Natasha mumbled.

Steve seemed to flounder a little. Bucky grinned at the kids. “That’s alright,” he told them. “I go by Bucky, anyway.”

“Bucky?” Natasha echoed suspiciously. “Why?”

“Well, like you said, there’s already a lot of guys named James out there. My middle name’s Buchanan, which is kinda weird, so my little sister started called me Bucky when we were kids.”

“James Buchanan?” One of the teenage boys muttered. “Presidential.” Bucky laughed and nodded.

“You have a little sister?” Someone asked. Bucky couldn’t even keep track of who was talking, let alone who was who.

“I have three little sisters, actually.”

“Okay, hang on, let’s introduce everyone first so Ja—Bucky knows who he’s talking to,” Steve suggested. “Line up.”

There was some muttering and jostling as they rearranged themselves. It took Bucky a minute to realize they were going in age order.

“Which end should we start with today?” Steve asked. No one answered.

“I’ll start,” the oldest boy finally offered. “Tim. Seventeen.”

“Tony. Sixteen.”

“James. Sixteen.” Tony and James almost said their names on top of each other.

“Bruce. Fifteen.”

“Gabe. Fifteen.”

“Jacques. Thirteen.”

“Jim. Twelve.”

“Monty. Eleven.” Monty was the first to break the bored tone the older boys were using. He sounded like he was trying to imitate them but couldn’t quite get it.

“I’m Thor and I’m ten.”

“Natasha. Eight.” She held her head up and looked Bucky straight in the eye.

Bucky looked expectantly at the youngest boy, who promptly hunched his shoulders shyly and shook his head.

“Clint is seven,” Steve offered. “He’s a little shy,” he added in an undertone.

“Wow.” Bucky tried to laugh but he felt like his insides were clawing away at him. This was a lot to take in. “Um, I’m gonna try real hard to remember all your names, but…”

“Oh, they’ll try to mess you up,” Steve warned him. “Especially Monty and Jacques.”

Monty stuck out his tongue. Well, Bucky thought it was Monty. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure, and he’d have no idea if they pulled a switch on him.

“Can we go swimming now?” Thor asked impatiently.

“Sure, I’ve got to get Bucky squared away.” The kids all started scattering. Tim scooped Clint up even before Steve could call after them, “Look after the little ones!”

Bucky let out a long breath once the kids were gone and Steve laughed. “I know,” he said conspiratorially. “It’s a madhouse around here.”

“You just adopted them all?” Bucky asked faintly.

“Well, some of them came together. Tony and Rhodey were together—oh, Rhodey is what everyone calls James. I guess no one wants to go by James. Gabe and Jacques were together when we found them. And Clint wouldn’t come until we’d let him show us where Natasha was, and then…well, we couldn’t leave her.”

Bucky watched Steve’s face as he spoke, and the way his eyes went a little hard. “Most of them had pretty fucked up shit happen to them, huh?”

Steve barked out a little laugh. “Sorry, I’m Army and all, but when I’ve been around the kids for a long time I don’t hear a lot of swearing like that. But yeah. I…” Steve took a deep breath. “I _should_ tell you, especially with Clint and Natasha, because there’s stuff you’ve got to be careful about saying or doing.” Steve swiped a hand tiredly down his face.

“You don’t have to tell me right now,” Bucky said. “It can wait.”

“Yeah.” Steve took another deep breath. “Peggy’s always been—Peggy was better at that stuff.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said quietly, feeling like he couldn’t get around it this time. Steve nodded and shrugged.

Steve gave him a tour of the house and showed him his room, where Jarvis had already stashed his suitcase. Steve didn’t even blink at the fact that Bucky only had one suitcase. Bucky had been expecting some kind of disbelief; this guy had more money than Bucky’s whole neighborhood growing up.

“Breakfast during the summer’s at seven. The kids have…well, um, they do self-defense every day from eight to ten and weaponry from ten to eleven, then they shower and everything. Lunch at noon, languages from one to three, and then they can do whatever they want for the rest of the day. Dinner at six.”

“Self-defense and weaponry?” Bucky asked. Steve’s eyes darted around a little before coming back to settle on Bucky’s face.

“Okay, here’s something you should know…I’m not actually in the Army anymore. Exactly. It’s—it’s an intelligence agency. Peggy, too. So we just…” He shrugged. “The kids need to know how to protect themselves.”

“Is this some kind of spy school for kids?” Bucky laughed. Steve didn’t join in, and a muscle stood out in his cheek.

“No,” he said sharply. “They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to.” Bucky was taken aback by his harsh tone, and Steve closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose. “I’m sorry. That was—part of what was happening with Natasha. She was being used as a child…soldier, kind of. Spy.”

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, heart starting to pound a little as he tried to stave off memories. “Sorry, I was—”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” Steve rubbed at his forehead again. “I’m sorry, really.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said awkwardly. He’d met Steve less than hour ago and already most of their conversations lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Bucky rubbed his palm against his jeans, trying to will it to stop sweating.

“Anyway,” Steve tried to force a smile. It looked more like a grimace. “I was impressed by your resume because of your language skills and your army experience. I thought you could do the language tutoring and help the kids with self-defense…” His voice trailed off as his eyes flicked quickly to Bucky’s empty sleeve and Bucky willed himself to stay calm.

“I can manage one-armed,” Bucky forced out.

“Great.” Steve nodded decisively, like Bucky saying it automatically made it true. “Most of them are pretty advanced already, actually, and they mostly just spar. The older guys help the younger ones. Bruce—” Steve bit his lip. “Bruce has some anger issues, and he, uh, he sits out self-defense sometimes. That’s fine, he’s allowed to do that.”

Bucky’s head was starting to spin with all the information Steve was dumping on him. Something must have shown on his face, because Steve immediately looked chagrined.

“I’ll write this all down before I leave,” Steve promised. “Why don’t we go out back with the kids?”

“Sounds great.”

There was a dock that everyone seemed to be congregating around and jumping off of, so Steve and Bucky headed there. They all seemed to get along really well, so at least Bucky wouldn’t have to spend too much time doing kiddy conflict-resolution. He also figured there was probably a high amount of fist-fights to get over issues in a household like this.

“Swim with us, Captain!” Thor cried. Bucky side-eyed Steve a little. He’d adopted these kids and they didn’t even call him by his name? Steve noticed and blushed.

“Some of them won’t call me Steve,” he muttered. “No matter how many times I tell them to.”

“Come on, Cap!” Tim added. At least the diminutive seemed friendlier. Steve obediently stripped off his shirt and Bucky’s mouth went dry. Oh, hell. Fury said Steve wouldn’t be around much, right? Good thing. It would not be a good idea to fall for his boss.

“Are you going to swim?” Steve asked.

“Uh…” Bucky thought of the web of scars on his shoulder and chest, plus the scars all over the rest of him. “No, I’m, uh, I’m fine.”

Steve searched his face and Bucky got the distinct feeling Steve knew something was up, but he didn’t push. He just raised his eyebrows at Bucky and jumped backward off the dock. The second he came back up out of the water, Clint hopped from Rhodey onto Steve’s back.

Bucky sat on the dock, watching them splash and listening to everyone’s laughter and shrieks, and after a while he noticed someone was sneaking up behind him. His body went rigid. Whoever it was, they were incredibly stealthy; he almost missed it. But before he could fully panic, he listened hard enough to hear the footsteps and realized it was a very small someone. He scanned the water and counted ten heads bobbing along with Steve. He relaxed a little. It was Natasha.

Sure enough, he looked over his shoulder and saw her. She made a face when their eyes met. “You’re good,” she said. “I can sneak up on lots of people.”

“I bet you can. I almost didn’t hear you. But there are some people you shouldn’t sneak up on, you know.”

She watched his face closely for a minute. “I shouldn’t sneak up on you?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I don’t like when people do.”

“Were you in the Army like Steve?”

“I was,” Bucky told her.

“He doesn’t like when I sneak up on him, either, and same with Sam and he was in the Air Force. Peggy told me—” She stopped talking; her words didn’t peter off or fade. She simply stopped.

“You miss Peggy?” Bucky asked softly. Natasha looked out at the water, squinting against the sun, and didn’t say anything. Bucky decided not to push.

“I’m from Russia,” she started up again after a minute. “Have you ever been to Russia?”

Bucky kept his breathing even and didn’t let himself stutter at all, even though his heart rate was rising quickly. “I have,” he said evenly. “Do you miss Russia?”

Natasha was quiet for a long time. “No,” she finally said. “Russia was lots of bad things.”

“Russia was lots of bad things for me, too,” he admitted.

“I’m going swimming,” she said quickly, launching herself up onto her feet and then diving gracefully off the dock. She was biting her lip, and Bucky just nodded. She was a little girl. He could tell she didn’t want to talk about Russia and the bad things; she probably wasn’t even entirely sure how to process what had happened to her. He could appreciate that.

 

Dinner was, to say the least, hectic. Eleven kids made a lot of noise. And mess. Bucky was surprised when Jarvis and the cook, Maria, came and sat at the table, too. Admittedly, most of what he knew about rich people came from TV and movies, but he thought “the help” didn’t usually eat with the family. Though technically he was the help, too.

“Steve, how long will you be gone?” Bruce asked. His glasses were slightly askew after a scuffle with Gabe over the last dinner roll.

“A week,” Steve said apologetically as some of the kids groaned loudly. “I know, it’s a long time for summer vacation. _Buuuut_ guess what I’m bringing back with me?”

“Sam?” Clint screeched excitedly, sitting up straighter. Steve laughed and all the kids started cheering.

“He’s coming back with me and he’ll be here for the rest of the summer.”

“The _whole_ summer?” Thor asked gleefully.

“The whole summer,” Steve confirmed.

Bucky tried not to let his confusion show. He figured Sam was probably the best friend Fury had mentioned. He hadn’t realized all the kids loved him so much. Not that he was _jealous_. Obviously the kids would like someone they knew better than someone they just met that day. It was fine.

And so what if Thor kept stealing bits of Bucky’s food and raising an eyebrow at him, daring Bucky to make a fuss? So what if Jacques was sitting across the table and kept kicking Bucky in the shin? He wasn’t going to discipline them while Steve was still there.

The doorbell rang and Jarvis got up to get it while Steve started reminding the kids of their jobs for the week while he was gone. Apparently they had a chore wheel. Bucky was a little confused. Didn’t Fury say they had a cleaning staff? They were totally loaded—why did the kids have to do the dishes?

“Captain, it’s Pierce’s courier,” Jarvis said quietly. Bucky noticed Rhodey elbow Tony in the side and Tony’s eyes go wide.

“Just a document?” Steve asked. Jarvis nodded. Steve disappeared for a few minutes and Clint launched a spoonful of peas at Bucky. Bucky scoffed a little. Please. These kids thought food and kicks to the shins were warfare? They knew nothing.

“Which courier was it?” Tony asked Jarvis innocently. Jarvis narrowed his eyes at Tony a little.

“Miss Potts.”

Now Bruce elbowed Tony. Tony elbowed both Bruce and Rhodey back. Steve came back in, dropping a thick envelope on the table in the hall before taking his seat again.

“May I be excused?” Tony asked quickly.

“Take your plate,” Steve said with a nod, brow furrowed. He didn’t seem to be in the conversation anymore.

The kids played video games after dinner and Steve disappeared into his office, only emerging after a few hours to make sure Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Monty went to bed. Jim, it seemed, had just reached the exciting age of twelve, where he got to stay up later with the older boys. Monty was severely disgruntled, because he was _eleven_ and that was old enough.

After that, the older boys put on a movie, and Bucky noticed Tim, Jacques, and Gabe with their heads together, whispering. That didn’t seem ominous at all.

Sure enough, when Bucky went up to his room, he found a very large, very obvious thumbtack under the covers of his bed. He rolled his eyes and set it on the desk, sighing and stretching his arm over his head. It had been quite a day, plus the jetlag was catching up to him. He used to be practiced at dodging jetlag, taking missions in different countries back-to-back, but it had been years since then and he felt ready to drop.

The bed was possibly the most comfortable he’d ever felt in his life, and Bucky even let out a little groan of satisfaction. He could get used to the high life, honestly. He just needed to win over eleven different children. Great.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some ableist language in this chapter, but it's mostly kids not necessarily meaning to be ableist.

Bucky dragged himself out of bed the next morning in time for breakfast. It seemed an ungodly hour. Seven am in the summer? Bucky didn’t even get up that early for class. But Fury had been right when he’d said it was a good job. Not only was he living for free, he was getting paid more than double most au pair salaries. Really, if he broke it down, it was kind of a shitty salary— _eleven_ fucking kids, all day—but without paying for food or rent, it would add up nicely by the end of the summer to help pay his tuition for his last year of school.

The kids were watching him closely as he sat down at the table, so he figured they were wondering how he’d taken their little prank. It wasn’t even a good one; he’d thought, with eleven of them, maybe they’d come up with something more creative.

But as Bucky took a sip of his coffee, he realized they had more up their sleeves. Clearly, he’d just put salt in his coffee instead of sugar. Clint clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles. When Bucky raised his head to look at them, Tony stared challengingly back. Ah, yes. The I-don’t-need-a-babysitter card. Personally, Bucky thought the kid was a little off-base, considering Bucky was the same age as Steve, but he got it. The kid wanted to test Bucky’s limits.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and went right on drinking his coffee. He’d been in the Army; this wasn’t the worst he’d ever had.

“What the?” Steve spluttered, having come in and gotten his own coffee. Apparently he’d used the same sugar bowl as Bucky. “Guys, come on! Not this early in the morning, please? Can you cut Bucky some slack, at least until I’m gone and can’t get in the cross-hairs?”

“Gee, thanks,” Bucky muttered. Steve gave him a cheeky smile.

“Well, what kind of summer au pair gig would it be without some hijinks?”

Bucky actually laughed. “Hijinks?” He echoed. “What are you, ninety?”

Steve sniffed imperiously. “I have eleven children, you know.”

“You certainly look great for your age, Captain.” Bucky threw in a little wink and watched the blush spread over Steve’s face. Shit, what was he doing? Flirting with his boss, right in front of his boss’s _eleven children_?

“Can I come with you?” Natasha interrupted their little staring match.

“It won’t be any fun, Nat.” Steve made a face. “I’ll be in meetings the whole week and wouldn’t be able to play at all.”

“That’s okay,” Natasha shrugged. “I can play by myself.”

Steve huffed a little laugh. “Well, you’re eight, so I’m not going to leave you unsupervised in Frankfurt.”

“I’ve been to Frankfurt by myself before,” she said, almost to herself. Steve pressed his lips together tightly.

“Yeah, well, we don’t things that way, do we?”

“Is Sam going to be in Frankfurt with you?” Tim asked quickly, eyes darting between Steve’s frown and Natasha’s narrowed eyes. Steve rubbed his eyes.

“No, not until I come home. He’s flying into Frankfurt and then we’re flying here together.”

“Is Sam going to bring presents?” Clint asked hopefully.

“He always does!” Thor burst out.

“He’ll be here for Dum Dum’s birthday!” Monty added.

“Oh.” Steve pointed a forkful of eggs at Tim. “Start thinking of what kind of party you want, okay?”

“My birthday isn’t even until August,” Tim mumbled.

“Yeah, but it’s your eighteenth!” Steve said brightly. “We need to throw a big party.”

Tim just shrugged, jaw tight. Steve’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Tim, but he didn’t push the issue any further.

“Okay, guys, I gotta go,” Steve announced as he stood up. The kids all started yelling out their goodbyes, so that no one actually got their point across, but Steve waved (in a way that was both dorky and, Bucky cursed himself, adorable) and left.

Eleven pairs of eyes immediately focused on Bucky, and he gulped.

“Well, okay,” he said. “Self-defense time, yeah?”

Self-defense was, to put it bluntly, a shitshow. They all paired themselves off, leaving Tim without a partner, so Bucky offered to spar with him. Obviously he was going to go easy on the kid, because he was ten years older, a few inches taller, and a lot more muscular, but Tim wasn’t having any of this.

“I’m not a baby,” he groaned. “Quit holding back.”

Meanwhile, Bruce and Jim were apparently airing some issues on the mat, and it quickly devolved from controlled sparring into an actual brawl. Bucky grabbed Jim around the waist and hauled him away from Bruce, who was now so angry his chest was heaving. He screamed and stomped off, kicking hard at a rack of free weights and sending several careening onto the ground. Natasha and Clint had to give up their almost worryingly advanced sparring to avoid being hit by the weights.

“Wow, you’re doing a great job, Fugitive,” Tony said sarcastically.

“Tony,” Gabe scolded. “That was low.”

“The actual fugitive wasn’t even the one-armed man,” Bucky pointed out. “You think I haven’t heard every one-armed joke there is?”

“How’d you lose your arm?” Monty asked curiously. Tim gave him a quelling look.

“Fought a bear,” Bucky said flippantly. “I’m gonna go check on Bruce. No one kill each other while I’m gone, please.”

He headed toward the direction Bruce had gone and heard Thor say behind him, “Do you think he really fought a bear?”

Bucky found Bruce sitting on the dock, feet in the water, eyes closed and tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Hey,” Bucky said cautiously. Bruce gave a little shudder.

“I’m s-sorry,” he choked out. “I know I shouldn’t get so mad.”

Bucky sat down beside him and sighed. “What happened?”

“Jim didn’t even _do_ anything, not on purpose. I just got mad because he got me. I didn’t block his punch well enough.” Bruce swiped angrily at the tears on his face. “I get so mad and I can’t stop myself and then I do something awful and hurt someone. Every time.”

Bucky let him take deep, gulping breaths for a minute. “You didn’t hurt anyone this time.”

“I almost did. Natasha and Clint were right by the weights and I—”

“They got out of the way,” Bucky told him.

“But what if they didn’t? They’re both so _small_. I should take care of them, not almost hurt them.” Bruce kicked the water, sending up a splash that scattered a few birds.

Bucky watched him for a minute, saw the self-hatred there in his eyes, and tipped his face back to catch the sun. “When I first lost my arm, I was so mad at the whole world,” he started. “I couldn’t believe that would happen to me. Especially after I went to war and did so much for my country. Like, shouldn’t I get some kind of cosmic reward? Instead I lost my fucking arm.”

Bruce looked over at him. “Did you hurt anyone?”

Bucky nodded seriously. “I did, yeah. I drank a lot. I got into a lot of fights. I got arrested more than once.”

“What happened?”

Bucky took a deep breath through his nose. “I almost hit my little sister. I was drunk, of course, and she was trying to talk to me about it, tell me to sober up.” He felt his throat start to get tight as he remembered the fear in Becca’s eyes and the curl of his fingers into a fist. “I really almost took a swing at her, and that was…” He laughed bitterly. “That was that. Ran away, got sober, started school.”

“Did she forgive you?” Bruce asked in a small voice. Bucky’s stomach lurched a little, but he couldn’t tell this kid the truth, not when he knew what Bruce needed to hear.

“Course she did,” he lied, forcing himself to sound cheerful. “That’s what family does. I know Natasha and Clint ain’t even mad at you. So, you ready to go back?”

“Okay,” Bruce said reluctantly. “I don’t like weapons training, though.”

“So sit it out.” Bucky shrugged.

“Steve doesn’t like it when we don’t do our training,” Bruce revealed. “He gets upset.”

“He told me it was okay if you did.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t make us do it if we don’t want to, but he just gets…” Bruce shook his head. “It’s like he gets nervous.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. A soldier getting worried if his kids didn’t train? Gee, that didn’t sound like PTSD at all. “He probably just wants to make sure you’re safe.”

Bruce pulled his feet out of the water and stood up. “It wasn’t as bad when Peggy was still alive.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do with that information. They walked back to the house’s gym and Bruce avoided everyone’s eyes until Tony broke the ice by poking him repeatedly with a weighted workout bar. Bucky supervised the kids as they shot on the range. Everyone was very strict about the safety rules, and Bucky relaxed a little.

Clint, oddly enough, didn’t use any of the pretty extensive firearm collection; instead he had his own bow and a quiver of arrows. No one questioned him, so Bucky figured this happened regularly. After he sunk four arrows in a row in the dead center of the target, Bucky couldn’t exactly question it.

Everyone broke off to wash up before lunch and Bucky enjoyed the incredible water pressure in his very own private bathroom. At school, he had to share a dorm bathroom with his whole floor, and it made him feel really awkward. He was at least five years older than everyone else, and showering beside a nineteen-year-old made him uncomfortable.

After lunch, it was language time. Bucky was actually pretty excited for the afternoon tutoring session. His specialty was teaching foreign languages; he knew a lot after all his travels, and it just made sense to put that to good use.

“Alright, who’s learning what?” He asked as they gathered in an actual classroom. The house was so huge they had rooms for everything, it seemed; besides the gym and the shooting range, there was the classroom they were in, a theater room, and a meditation room that was apparently mostly for Bruce. Bucky already knew what everyone was learning—Steve had written it down for him—but he wanted to see if the kids were going to try to pull a fast one on him.

“Jacques, Thor, and Natasha have to work on English,” Monty reported primly. “Plus we’re all doing German and Chinese and we get to pick a third one and _I’m_ learning Hindi.”

Bucky wrinkled his forehead a little. “Uh, okay,” he said. “Why Hindi?”

“He has a crush on a girl from India!” Jacques cut in, apparently wounded enough over Monty tattling about his sub-par English to rat him out. Monty’s face went scarlet.

“She’s my _pen-pal_ ,” he protested. “I knew her when I lived in England and we’re friends.”

“Well, that’s nice of you,” Bucky said mildly. He thought it was, quite frankly, a little bit adorable, but Monty was embarrassed enough without him adding that. “Hindi’s one I don’t know, actually, so maybe we can learn together. What’s everyone else learning?”

“Japanese,” Jim said, almost challengingly. Bucky nodded encouragingly.

“Farsi,” Tony said, pointing to Rhodey as well.

“I’m actually learning Hindi, too.” Bruce moved toward Monty and they chose desks close together.

“I already speak a third language,” Gabe said. “French. I’m just working on that some more.”

“Gabe and Jacques are teaching me French, too.” Tim wiggled his eyebrows. “Girls love French.”

“Let me tell you a story about that later,” Bucky laughed. “What about you, Clint?” Clint ducked his head and shrugged. “Come on, aren’t you working on a language?”

“I’m not good at talking,” Clint said softly. “Or listening. I can’t do languages.”

Bucky crouched down to get closer to Clint’s height. “Because of your hearing aids?”

Clint nodded, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Peggy learned sign language to teach me.”

Bucky had no idea how to handle that. He was so ridiculously out of his depth with every single one of these kids. The woman who effectively rescued most of them, if not all, from terrible situations was gone now, and there was almost a palpable wound in the household. “Have you worked on it since…without her?”

“Only with Steve. But Steve’s not here.”

Bucky frowned. “Yeah, I don’t know sign language. And, uh…well, I only have one hand, so I think that might be kinda hard.”

“I can help him this week,” Tim offered. “I can sign.”

“Thanks, Tim.” Bucky was honestly a little surprised by how helpful Tim was. He’d expected the oldest to be the one acting out, but he’d been nothing but cheerful and gracious all day. Tony was the one with waves of hostility rolling off him.

“Clint already _knows_ how to sign,” Natasha protested. “We sign together.”

“That’s not signing,” Tim said patiently, sounding like they’d had this discussion before. “You guys made up hand signals, but it’s not a full language.”

“It is too,” Natasha hissed.

“Well, maybe you guys made up a sign language of your own, but wouldn’t it be better if Clint learns to sign the way other people know, so he can talk to people even if you’re not there?” Bucky tried to diffuse the situation.

“I’m always gonna be there with Clint,” Natasha said protectively, wrapping a small arm around Clint’s skinny shoulders. Bucky remembered Steve saying they’d found Clint first and he’d refused to leave without Natasha. He held up his hand in defeat.

“That’s good; you guys can look out for each other. But Steve said Clint’s supposed to work on ASL, so at least for the week he’s gone how about we stick to that plan and you can talk to Steve about it when he gets back?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and looked at Clint. They had a silent conversation with their eyes, and then Natasha huffed. “Fine.”

Bucky had to spend most of the language session helping Jacques with English—Natasha and Thor were both pretty well off, with only a few minor grammar issues because their first languages were Russian and Norwegian, respectively, but Jacques was further behind. It didn’t make total sense to Bucky, since he knew Jacques and Gabe had been with Steve longer than Natasha and Clint, but he quickly realized part of Jacques’s problem was that he didn’t _want_ to be fluent in English.

“French is better,” Jacques said petulantly after Bucky corrected his grammar. Bucky decided to file it away and deal with it later. For the most part, he was using this first day as a way to collect data about the kids. Fury would be proud.

They had the rest of the afternoon to do whatever they wanted, and for most of the kids that meant swimming. Bruce decided to go meditate and Gabe went to the kitchen for a cooking lesson with Maria, but everyone else changed into swimsuits. Bucky sat on the dock again, just watching and feeling the sun in his hair.

“Where’s Tony?” He asked Rhodey after he realized Tony was gone. Rhodey’s face went through a rapid succession of expressions, before settling on false innocence.

“He just likes to go for walks in the afternoon.”

“Does he?” Bucky commented. “All by himself?”

Rhodey’s eyes went a little wide. “Yes!” He ended the conversation by jumping in the water. Bucky sighed. Did nannying include giving a teenager the sex talk? He definitely did not want to do that.

The week slipped by in a haze of self-defense (with two more outbursts from Bruce), language studying (where Jacques still stubbornly refused to retain English vocabulary and Tony taught Thor English swear words) and long summer afternoons by the lake. Bucky was, in all honesty, a little miffed that he hadn’t won the kids over already, even after baking them his super-secret world-famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Tim, Gabe, Jim, and Thor had taken to him pretty well. Monty would like him, he could tell, but he was pretending not to out of solidarity for Jacques, who resented Bucky for the English lessons. Rhodey seemed fairly neutral, but stuck with Tony, who absolutely hated Bucky’s guts. Bruce respected him after their little heart-to-heart by the lake, but he seemed embarrassed that Bucky had seen him cry.

He’d expected Natasha and Clint to be easy to win over, since they were so young, but he’d apparently underestimated whatever horrors they’d gone through. Natasha wasn’t outright hostile, the way Tony was, but she was always on guard with him, completely wary and watchful. Clint went back and forth—after Bucky made cookies and let the kids eat pizza for dinner, Clint had sat in Bucky’s lap during a movie and fallen asleep against his shoulder, but the next day avoided him like he had a plague.

It was frustrating, but Bucky’d been called a stubborn son of a bitch more than once, so he’d push through it. At least they’d stopped switching the sugar and salt and weren’t sneaking thumbtacks into his bed anymore.

 

“Steve and Sam are coming back today!” Thor woke the house with his booming voice. Bucky groaned. He had learned very quickly that he would probably never get as much sleep as he wanted. These kids were _loud_.

“Stop yelling!” Tony yelled.

“Now _you’re_ yelling!”

“Shut up!” Gabe joined in.

Bucky rubbed his eyes and forced himself out of bed. Thor was likely to devolve into wrestling to end arguments and he’d already put a hole in one wall with his elbow. Tim had cheerfully told Bucky not to worry because it happened, apparently, “all the time.”

“Hey, guys, take it easy,” he mumbled, coming into the hallway.

“Is it such a _crime_ to want to get some sleep around here?” Tony fumed. “It’s bad enough that we have to get up so early during the _summer_ just because Steve’s _crazy_.”

“Don’t call Steve crazy!” Thor protested hotly. Bucky put a hand on his shoulder and steered him gently toward his room.

“Come on, Thor, let me handle this, alright?”

“He _is_ crazy.” Tony wouldn’t let it go. “He went crazy after Peggy died.”

“Shut up!” Gabe yelled from his room again, this time sounding furious. He ripped his door open. “Don’t talk about Steve like that!”

Doors were opening all down the hallway now and Bucky could see the situation rapidly spinning out of his control.

“We all saw it happen,” Tony pointed out. “After the guy killed Peggy, Steve _lost it_ and now he’s so paranoid we have to—”

He was cut off by Gabe tackling him. They slammed into a table, which creaked ominously. “Hey!” Bucky exclaimed. He grabbed at Gabe, but Gabe was a pretty strong fifteen-year-old and Bucky only had one arm.

“Shut up!” Gabe screamed. “Don’t talk about Peggy!”

“They were obviously getting into something bad and that’s why Peggy got murdered,” Tony spat. He pushed at Gabe and it gave Bucky a little more leverage. Tim was suddenly at Bucky’s side. He grabbed Gabe but gave Tony a dark look.

“That’s _enough_ ,” he said clearly. “You want to keep your tongue, you’ll shut your trap about Steve and Peggy both. They didn’t have to take you in—they didn’t have to take any of us in, and they’ve never hit any of us. I’d think that’d mean something to _you_ of all people.”

Tony snapped his mouth shut, eyes flashing with anger. Rhodey helped him off the ground and pulled him back toward their room. Bucky took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. Natasha and Clint shared a room on the floor below everyone else, closer to Steve’s room, but they’d come up the stairs and were watching, Clint’s eyes wide, Natasha’s narrowed. Jim had an arm around Monty, whose lower lip was trembling. Jacques and Thor both looked angry. Bruce hadn’t opened his door, and Bucky didn’t even want to think about what kind of angry episode he was having in there.

“Okay,” Bucky sighed. “Come on, guys, let’s go get some breakfast.”

Breakfast was silent. No one made so much as a peep. Tony never came down. Bruce’s eyes, when he emerged, were red-rimmed. Bucky wanted to go back to bed for at least two days. Once everyone finished eating and put their plates in the dishwasher, Bucky looked at their downcast faces and made an executive decision.

“We’re taking a day off today,” he declared.

“A day off?” Jim asked skeptically.

“Yep. No self-defense, no weapons, no languages. What should we do?”

“We’re supposed to train,” Monty said carefully.

“Hey, everyone needs a day off sometimes. We’re gonna play hooky. Should we go into town and see a movie? You all speak German, you’ll understand.” Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Well? Should we take a vote?”

“Steve might not like that…” Rhodey murmured.

Bucky waved his hand carelessly. “Steve will understand.”

He saw Tim and Gabe exchange uneasy glances before Tim spoke up. “I don’t know about that.”

“Guys,” Bucky laughed. “It’s not the end of the world if you miss one day.”

It got uneasily quiet again until Clint, in a very small voice, said, “I want to see a movie.”

“Alright!” Bucky held out his hand for a high-five. “Who else?”

“What movie?” Jacques asked cautiously.

“We’ll all have to agree…that’s gonna be kinda hard. And it’s gotta be something appropriate.” Bucky pointed at Tim as he said it. Tim wasn’t necessarily gross, but he was a seventeen-year-old boy and had the taste to prove it.

It took nearly two hours to pick a movie and get everyone’s bikes ready to go. _Bikes_. They only used the car, Monty explained earnestly, when they really had to, because bikes were better for the environment and their bodies. Bucky hadn't ridden a bike since he was probably about twelve, and he'd certainly never ridden a bike since losing his arm. The only reason he was staying upright was because he'd spent years honing his control over his body.  
  
The girl behind the snack counter looked horrified at the amount of popcorn, soda, and candy Bucky got, but he didn’t care. The kids were freaking out—even Tony wasn’t completely able to hide his excitement.

“Steve never lets us have candy unless we make it at home!” Thor crowed as he cracked open a box. Bucky was suddenly starting to think this outing was ill-advised.

When they got home, all racing on their bikes and laughing and yelling, Steve was back. He was waiting on the front lawn. With his arms crossed over his chest. Bucky felt his stomach start to sink. The man beside Steve said something to him and Steve’s lips tightened.

“Steve! Sam!” The kids were beside themselves. Bikes were discarded haphazardly as they swarmed the lawn. Sam let them tackle and dogpile him.

“Why don’t you guys go inside?” Steve suggested, not taking his narrowed eyes off Bucky. “See what Sam brought you.”

Bucky was suddenly alone with Steve’s badly-concealed anger. He figured should probably start with apologizing, but part of him—the stubborn, proud part—didn’t see anything to apologize for. He raised an eyebrow at Steve and that bit of impertinence was apparently the last straw for Steve.

“You just decided they didn’t need to train today? You thought a day at the movies, pumping them full of sugar and God knows what else, would be more important than training to defend themselves?”

Bucky felt himself puffing up. “It’s one day. Missing one day of training’s not going to hurt them, but a day off now and then is good for them.”

“Missing one day is all it takes!” Steve protested, shoving a hand through his hair. “They have to be prepared for _anything_.”

“Why does a seven-year-old need to spar every single day?” Bucky was starting to get mad now, too. “They should be playing and getting sunburnt and climbing trees.”

“They have time for that in the afternoon.”

“You really think it’s healthy to schedule their lives so closely?”

Steve’s nostrils flared. “I think it’s healthy to make sure these kids are well-trained.”

“They’re not soldiers,” Bucky shot back. “They’re kids. _Captain_.”

Steve almost flinched. “Maybe this job isn’t right for you.”

Bucky blinked. “You’re firing me?” His voice came out choked. This couldn’t be happening. Fury would kick him out of the program. He’d be back to square one, starting over again, like he just got sober and to figure out what to do with himself.

“Bucky!” Thor came running out of the house. “Look what Sam got me!” He grabbed at Bucky’s legs, thrusting an action figure toward Bucky’s face. Bucky tore his eyes away from Steve’s to force a smile at Thor.

“Awesome,” he said. “What’s his name?”

Before he could answer, Tim poked his head out the front door. “Hey, Bucky, Sam got me a record player. Now I can listen to records like you said!”

“Sam got me a Nerf bow and arrow!” Clint crowed, holding it up for Bucky to see.

Bucky chanced a glance at Steve. Steve was watching the kids crowd around Bucky with a pained look on his face. They were pushing, talking over one another, and almost in danger of knocking Bucky over, but they were all grinning and laughing.

“You can stay,” Steve muttered, turning toward the house. “ _For now._ But you need to follow the rules. We have them for a good reason. I'm going to be watching.”

Bucky watched him walk away, blowing out a breath. Following rules wasn’t exactly Bucky’s strong suit.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky retreated and went out by himself to the dock, licking his wounds and cradling his bruised pride, and Steve came out and found him.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said without preamble, dropping to sit beside Bucky. “I wish I could say it doesn’t happen often, but that’d be a lie. It’s better than when I was a kid, but…” He shrugged.

Bucky squinted over at him. “Pal, if that was you losing your temper, I hope you never see me losing mine.”

Steve laughed a little. “I used to jump into everything fist first but, you know, most of the kids have seen too many authority figures that way, so it really helps tame your temper.”

Bucky nodded, wondering if he should bring up what the kids had said during the big blowout and all of Tony’s insinuations. Before he could make a decision, Steve and Bucky both turned to the quiet sound of footsteps and saw the boy himself creeping out of the house. Steve shook his head.

“I thought the walkie-talkies Sam brought would keep him busy, but he’s going to let the other kids play with them before he enhances them, so he’s probably bored. Off to find Pepper, I’m sure.”

“I’m pretty sure he thinks that’s a secret,” Bucky pointed out. Steve snorted.

“I work for an international intelligence agency and he thinks I don’t notice when he disappears every time Pepper brings something over from Pierce’s office. The kid’s an actual genius, but he’s still sixteen.”

“He’s a genius?” Bucky asked. He was smart, sure, but he hadn’t seemed any smarter than anyone else. Steve gave Bucky an assessing glance and then sighed a little.

“His father was Howard Stark,” he said slowly. Bucky gaped and Steve nodded. “Tony’s definitely got his father’s brains—I think he might actually be smarter than Howard, but I didn’t know Howard when he was sixteen, so I can’t say for sure. He doesn’t go find Pepper every time he disappears. He and Bruce have a little workshop down in the garage where they do science experiments. Tony’s more into engineering. But sometimes he’s funny about showing it. When he’s feeling insecure he usually flaunts his intelligence, but sometimes when he’s really mad he just…retreats. It’s something he picked up from living with Howard.”

“Wow,” Bucky managed. “Did you know Howard?”

“I met him through Peggy. They knew each other for years, worked together, founded the agency. Howard and Maria’s will gave us everything, including custody of Tony. This house, our property in New York—” Steve waved a hand. “Rhodey’s parents died in the same accident as Howard and Maria. Their will gave custody to Howard and Maria, but obviously that couldn’t happen. Peggy and I weren’t exactly ideal candidates to take in two nine-year-olds, you know? I was only twenty and Peggy was twenty-five. But we had Tony already, and all this space and money from Howard, and Peggy worked her magic on the judge. After that, it just seemed like everywhere we looked there was a kid who needed help. And why shouldn’t we help them? We had the resources.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Older woman, huh?”

Steve laughed. “Oh, I was so dazzled by Peggy. She was strong and smart and beautiful.” His smile turned wistful. “You know, we were married for seven years and I never really stopped being dazzled by her.”

“You got married when you were nineteen?” Bucky asked. When he was nineteen, he was a sniper in special ops and getting absolutely plastered every time he got shore leave, waking up in unfamiliar beds if his buddies didn’t drag him back to base. Steve grinned at him.

“Not what you had in mind at nineteen?” He guessed good-naturedly. “I knew the minute I met Peggy I wanted to marry her. Didn’t see much point in waiting around, especially not in our line of work.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that, not considering what happened to Peggy. Steve looked out at the water, eyes distant—probably remembering Peggy. Bucky had seen the pictures on the walls in the house; she was a looker.

“Wish I could’ve met her,” Bucky said quietly. Steve blinked a little, then looked at Bucky and smiled softly.

“I wish you could’ve, too. She would’ve loved you, I can already tell. Sassing me from the minute you got here and ignoring my explicit instructions because you thought something else was better?” Steve laughed, and Bucky was glad to see he didn’t seem bitter about what he was saying. “You two would’ve run circles around me. It’s going to be bad enough with you and Sam.”

“I stand by my decision,” Bucky told him.

“I actually appreciate that a lot,” Steve assured him. “Even if I do think it’s more out of a place of stubbornness than sense.”

Bucky pretended to be bowled over by the comment. “You’re not calling me stubborn, are you?” He pressed a hand to his chest theatrically. Steve kicked water at him and Bucky kicked some water right back.

“Keep your feet to yourself,” Steve commanded.

“I’m not in the Army anymore, Captain. I don’t take orders,” Bucky taunted.

“I bet you don’t,” Steve murmured. Did his eyes flick down to Bucky’s lips? Bucky felt his breath catch.

“Steve!” Tim bellowed from the house. “Maria wants to talk to you about dinner!”

Steve jumped up like he’d been burned. “Um, I better go,” he stammered, scrambling away. Bucky dropped backward onto his back, feet still in the water, and rested his head on his arm. He was in trouble.

 

Bucky didn’t get a real introduction to Sam until after dinner. Steve was refereeing a squabble between Clint and Thor when Sam stuck his hand out to Bucky.

“Sam Wilson,” he said. “I hear you’re the new nanny.”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “I prefer the term _au pair_.”

“Steve said you were Army?”

“Yeah, Special Forces for four years. Planned to go longer, but…” Bucky glanced ruefully at where his left arm should be. Sam took it completely in stride.

“Air Force,” he said with a nod. Bucky rolled his eyes teasingly and Sam laughed.

“Don’t even _give_ me that.”

“Hey, you called me a nanny.”

“Steve didn’t scare you off?” Sam checked. Bucky snorted.

“I’ve had COs bigger than him. Plus, guy’s a teddy bear.”

“He really is,” Sam agreed. They both watched as Steve hugged Clint and Thor in an arm each, lifting them both up with one arm. He was wearing a T-shirt and Bucky couldn’t help but gulp a little at the look of his bicep. He needed to stop this.

“Should we go for a hike?” Steve suggested. Bucky saw Tim give the briefest of eye-rolls before nodding along with Thor’s excited shouts.

“Maria, you coming?” Sam asked with a grin. Bucky shot Steve a questioning look, glancing pointedly at Sam and Maria. Steve shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“What about you, Jarvis?” Steve asked, a little too brightly to be innocent. Jarvis gave him a highly unimpressed look.

“No thank you, Captain Rogers. I’ll stay here and wait for Master Stark to get home.”

“And probably refold all the laundry I already folded,” Rhodey muttered.

“Yes, I most likely will,” Jarvis admitted blithely.

So they set out, a rather unwieldy group of thirteen people. There was a narrow dirt path that started beside the lake and went up into the hills. Thor, as it turned out, was very into nature. He pointed out different types of plants and could tell which species of birds were out just by their calls. Bucky was impressed.

“He read a lot?” He asked Steve.

“Yeah, every time we travel somewhere he wants to know about the local plants and animals. That’s actually how we found him. We were in Norway on an ambassador type assignment and found Thor out in the woods. His father—” Steve made a little noise, face tight with anger. “His father left him out there for a wilderness survival trip. By himself. Seven years old. When we found him, it had been two weeks. Turns out Thor’s mother died the third day he was gone, and his father was just so…I don’t know, wrecked? He _forgot about his son_.”

“That’s fucked up,” Bucky hissed.

“Yeah. And his dad really just couldn’t handle the kids anymore, plus Thor’s little brother has a lot of emotional disturbance problems and was getting really violent, really threatening, and Thor’s dad really just kind of gave up.”

Bucky looked ahead to where Thor was teaching Clint and Natasha to imitate the birdsong around them and shook his head. It was hard to believe such awful things had happened to a kid who was still so kind and happy.

“I'm glad you guys found him,” Bucky said softly, glancing sideways at Steve and the way the sun slanted down into his hair, turning it golden. “He deserves how good you are.”

Steve blushed. “Well, I mean—I try.”

“Hey, Cap,” Jim butted in. “Can we go back to the house now? Gabe’s gonna make brownies.”

Thor’s face fell a little but he didn’t say anything. Steve chewed his lip for a second. “Yeah, why don’t you guys go ahead? I’m gonna stay out here a little longer. Thor can show me those edible berries he found last week.”

No one else seemed in a big rush to stay outside—the sun was starting to go down, so the bugs were coming out—but a smile split Thor’s face and Steve grinned back in response. Bucky shook his head a little as he followed Monty down the path. So, so much trouble.

 

The days started to slip by in a comfortable routine. Bucky ran in the mornings before breakfast with Steve and Sam. It meant he had to get up even earlier, which was brutal, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing Steve running was almost a spiritual experience. No one had told him his proper shirt size and the tight spandex left nothing to the imagination.

Sam had caught Bucky looking more than once and only winked at him. Bucky didn’t know if that meant he had Sam’s blessing or if Sam was just acknowledging how impossible it was _not_ to stare at Steve’s body.

Self-defense definitely went smoother with three adults instead of one. Sam was really good at talking Bruce down from his anger outbursts; apparently, Sam was a counselor, so he was used to that kind of thing.

But Bucky’s favorite part of the day were the lazy afternoon hours where everybody got to do whatever they wanted. Sometimes it meant a hike in the woods. Sometimes it meant swimming and screaming and splashing in the lake. Sometimes it meant nothing more than everyone lying in the grass watching the clouds in the sky. It reminded Bucky of being a kid, long summers outside to stay out of the grown-ups’ way, just him and his sisters making up games and getting sunburnt.

Natasha and Clint had a ballet class three times a week in town, and Rhodey usually tagged along because he “wanted to get out of the house”, according to him, but really because he had a crush on one of the older girls who helped teach, Carol. Bucky kept encouraging him to ask her out.

Bucky’s little crush on Steve was not going away. It was, in fact, getting worse every day. Bucky felt exasperated about the whole thing. How was he not supposed to fall for the guy who listened earnestly to every word out of a seven-year-old’s mouth? How could he feel nothing for a guy who shot back sarcastically every time Bucky tried to get smart?

It was an impossible situation.

“Everybody listen up!” Bucky shouted as he flung open the front door, Natasha and Clint trailing him in their tights. They’d just come from ballet. “We’ve got two stars on our hands.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked innocently, like Bucky hadn’t already texted him the exciting news the second the teacher had announced it and he hadn't texted back with a bunch of smiley emoticons.

“Well, as you may or may not know, the Salzburg Community Ballet class is putting on a recital in a month. And we happen to have the two best dancers in the whole ballet here in our midst!” Bucky wasn’t even exaggerating all that much. Both Clint and Natasha were leaps and bounds better than the other kids in their age group; Natasha had mentioned she’d been taking ballet classes since she was four, but Clint had merely shrugged when Bucky asked why he was so good. He was incredibly coordinated for a little kid.

“Nat got a solo!” Clint burst out.

“It’s not a solo; it’s a _duet_ ,” Natasha corrected. “And Clint’s my partner.”

“Wow!” Steve exclaimed, clapping his hands like a complete and utter dork. Bucky had to look away. It was adorable. This was unfair. Everyone made appropriately excited noises. Sam gave Natasha and Clint high-fives.

“We need to practice,” Natasha declared, grabbing Clint’s hand and pulling her ballet bag from Bucky’s arm.

“We just got _back_ from practice,” Clint protested, but he followed her willingly.

“This means we’re gonna have to sit through their recital, doesn’t it?” Jim asked glumly. Tim grimaced.

“Ballet?” Tony groaned.

“I think it’ll be great,” Rhodey argued.

“Yeah, sure, ‘cause you get to see your girlfriend in tights,” Tim said. Rhodey flushed and muttered a few things under his breath that sounded like _she’s not my girlfriend_ and _shut up_.

“Yes, we are going, and yes, we are going to enjoy it,” Steve cut in, giving the gathered boys very pointed looks. “And we’re going to have pizza afterward.”

“I can sit through ballet for pizza,” Gabe decided.

“You know we’d sit through it without the promise of pizza,” Tim pointed out. “But you can’t back out of the pizza now.”

“Mr. Barnes, you have some mail.” Jarvis came almost out of nowhere. Bucky stared at him.

“Mail?” He asked blankly.

“Yes, it’s a form of correspondence,” Jarvis told him, completely straight-faced. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Who sent you a letter?” Thor asked excitedly. Bucky took the envelope from Jarvis and felt his stomach tighten at the familiar handwriting. He hadn’t seen that handwriting in almost five years, but he’d never forget it.

“Um,” Bucky tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. “My sister.”

“Are you gonna open it?” Monty pressed.

“Guys, quit,” Steve instructed. “Leave Bucky and his mail alone.”

“Messing with someone’s mail is a federal offense, you know,” Sam pointed out helpfully.

“What if you’re not from this country?” Jacques asked.

“You get thrown in a dungeon,” Bruce said solemnly. Jacques narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“A dungeon?” He echoed.

“I can get out of a dungeon,” Thor proclaimed.

“So can I!” Jacques said. “Just blow up the walls.”

“Okay, let’s go see if Maria needs help with dinner.” Steve ushered everyone out of the room, shooting a curious look at Bucky over his shoulder.

Bucky took the letter out to the dock. It was becoming one of his favorite places on the estate; he had yet to actually get in the water, but he liked watching it and the birds swooping low for fish. He stared at the envelope for a long time, at his youngest sister Libby’s messy scrawl, and was suddenly transported back to the desert, hot sun burning him out and sand swirling around his legs. Libby had only been nine when Bucky first enlisted, and she’d been faithful about writing to him every single week for the entire four years he’d been in the Army.

He hadn’t seen her since the night he’d almost hit Becca and then ran away. Libby’d turned eighteen a few months ago, and Bucky had spent over an hour running as fast as he could to ignore the fact that he was missing his baby sister’s big, important birthday—finally, the end of worrying about CPS.

Bucky heard someone behind him and didn’t have to turn to know it was Steve. Steve was very light on his feet for someone his size. Bucky figured it helped with the whole spy thing.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said casually. “Everything okay?” Bucky twisted around to look at Steve, standing there with his hands in his pockets, squinting at the sun. Bucky shook his head.

“Bruce told you what I told him about my sister, huh?”

Steve winced apologetically. “He wasn’t trying to betray your confidence or anything like that,” he said, coming to sit beside Bucky. “He just told me it meant a lot to him that you told him.”

Bucky waved his hand carelessly, still holding the letter. “I’m not mad.” They were quiet for a minute before Bucky admitted, “I lied to him.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t almost hit your sister?”

Bucky dropped the letter in his lap so he could cover his eyes with his hand. Why did Steve Rogers, of all people, have to know Bucky’s deepest shame? The guy was practically a saint. He started rescuing orphaned and abandoned children when he was barely more than a child himself.

“That part’s true,” Bucky said quietly. “I lied about her forgiving me.”

Steve went very still beside him. “And now you got a letter from her?”

“Different sister. I’ve got three. I almost hit Becca. She’s two years younger than me. Then there’s Sadie, three years younger than Becca, and Libby, three years younger than Sadie. This letter’s from Libby. She just turned eighteen.”

Steve looked closely at Bucky’s face. “What happened?” Then he flushed and added quickly, “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Bucky asked. “Doesn’t it bother you to find out you trusted a bunch of kids to a guy who almost beat up his kid sister?”

Steve let out a breath. “If I found out before I met you it would,” he admitted slowly. “But I’ve seen you with the kids and I’ve known you for a few weeks now and I feel like…whatever happened, that’s not who you are.”

Bucky blinked against the sting in his eyes and looked away so Steve wouldn’t see him tearing up. “I had a hard time when I got out of the Army,” he started softly. “I got into some really…classified stuff. At the end, there. And I, uh. I got captured and…interrogated. For a while. ‘S how I lost my arm.”

Steve made a little noise beside Bucky but Bucky didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him if he was going to keep talking. A little shudder went through Bucky as he thought of the buzz of the saw grinding against his bones.

“So anyway. I was drinking a lot. It was the only way I could sleep. And function, really. I was drunk pretty much all the time. I was getting in fights all the time, got thrown in the drunk tank a few times. Becca tried talking to me about it a few times and I always avoided her. But I actually got charged after a bar fight, and she had custody of the younger girls and had to worry about CPS coming for them with me getting into trouble all the time while I was living with them, so she cornered me and started talking and I just…” Bucky laughed bitterly. “I didn’t want to hear it.”

“She never forgave you?” Steve asked, face giving nothing away.

“I left after I realized I was about to start swinging at her. She was so scared of me. And Libby and Sadie were in the house and saw, and they were terrified. So I took off. Haven’t heard from any of them since.”

“Wait, you haven’t talked to them?” Steve started to sound excited. “You haven’t tried? So maybe it’s not that they don’t—”

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off harshly. “Don’t. I’m not…Jesus. I don’t deserve to even ask for forgiveness.”

Steve looked Bucky directly in the eye and held his gaze. “I think you do.” That was all he said, and he said it in the same unwavering tone he used when he was absolutely certain of something. Bucky dropped his eyes down to the letter sitting in his lap. Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

“I’m gonna go. Read it or don’t; that’s up to you. But I think you’re great with those kids and you’re a good person, Bucky.” Steve stood up and left Bucky to bite down hard on his lip to fight tears.

The problem with Steve was that he saw the best of everyone, and Bucky was almost starting to believe it.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha and Clint started spending ridiculous amounts of time practicing their duet. It was obviously more Natasha’s doing than Clint’s; he’d often appear sweaty and red-faced to get a drink of water, loudly complaining about how his arms were tired from picking Natasha up.

Honestly, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever met an eight-year-old with Natasha’s drive. Sure, he hadn’t been around a lot of eight-year-olds lately, but he thought surely her focus was a little unusual. He brought it up with Sam and Steve and got shrugs in return.

“I’m not a child psychiatrist,” Sam pointed out. “No matter how much Steve tries to get me to shrink the kids.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re good at talking to people,” he defended himself. “Anyway, I think it _is_ a little much, but with her background…” He shrugged. “She can get intense sometimes.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Bucky reflected. “Baby spies and all that.”

“Well, they trained her in ballet, too,” Steve told him. “As part of her cover. When we found her she was in the states under the cover of being part of a traveling Russian ballet company. And the training was off the charts. She met Clint out on the street and started sneaking out of her room to see him. We were there on intel about an impending assassination, but we couldn’t find anything. Turned out the assassin was Natasha.”

“But she didn’t really kill anyone, did she?” Bucky interrupted worriedly. Steve pursed his lips.

“They told her it was a game. Her objective was to drop some ‘glitter’ into his tea. She didn’t understand what was happening. She was only six.”

Bucky gaped, horrified. “How many people has she killed?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Steve said grimly. “At least three.”

Bucky rubbed his hand over his face. He knew the world could be a cruel, evil place—he’d seen it firsthand; hell, he’d dished out some evil of his own on assignments—but this was a whole new level.

“She’s definitely gonna need some therapy once she’s old enough to understand it,” Sam said softly.

“All the kids need therapy.” Steve shook his head angrily. “I just don’t understand who could do these things to kids. Any kids, but _these_ kids— _my_ —” He stopped abruptly and bit his lip. “Not mine. Sorry.”

“Not yours?” Bucky asked, confused. Sam made a face.

“They’re his,” he muttered.

“I’m not just going to steamroll their identities.” The tone in Steve’s voice indicated this was a recurring argument. “They had lives before we took them in. Some of them had parents who loved them. I’m not trying to take anyone’s place. I’m not trying to erase what happened to them before they got here. I can’t just—”

“You took them in when horrible things were happening to them,” Sam said loudly, talking over Steve. “You give them a stable home and you love them. They love you. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that you’re a _family_.”

“Any family we might have been is gone now,” Steve barked. “Peggy…” He blinked furiously a few times and shook his head. He rubbed at his forehead and stalked off, probably to hole up in his office.

Bucky turned to Sam with wide eyes. Sam sighed. “Yeah,” Sam agreed with Bucky’s unspoken assessment of the situation. “He’s all kinds of fucked up and he won’t deal with it. Trust me, I’ve tried. Believe it or not, he’s actually doing better than he was six months ago.”

Bucky glanced toward the hall leading to Steve’s office before leaning in conspiratorially toward Sam. “What’s the deal with Peggy?”

“The deal?” Sam echoed a little coldly, raising an eyebrow. “Like, what’s the deal with him grieving his dead wife?”

Bucky waved a hand around. “Shit, no, I’m not saying anything’s wrong with that. But I heard some of the kids talking…did something happen? It wasn’t a natural death?”

Sam blew out a breath. “Peggy’s death was ruled an accident,” he started slowly. “A friendly fire incident on a mission.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest. “Her own people had her killed.”

Sam bit his lip. “That’s what Steve believes. He’s spent almost every minute since she died trying to get evidence to prove it.”

“You don’t think so?”

Sam was quiet for a minute, giving Bucky an assessing gaze. Finally he tilted his head a little. “I’m not in Steve’s line of work. I don’t know much about that business. And it’s not hard to see how paranoid Steve’s gotten. But…I know Steve. And I trust him. If he thinks something bad went down, I’ll do whatever he needs me to do to prove it.”

Loud, arguing voices signaled the kids’ return from where they’d been watching lizards by the lake before Bucky could respond. He went out to the back door to make sure no fights broke out, but the conversation stayed in the back of his mind, weighing heavily on his conscience.

 

The last week before the recital, Natasha and Clint didn’t even do their self-defense training because they were so busy practicing. Steve tried to put up a fight, but the combined efforts of Sam and Bucky, plus the stubborn jut of Natasha’s chin, shut him up. Clint looked betrayed. Clearly he’d been counting on Steve’s paranoia to provide him a short respite from Natasha’s militant devotion to practicing.

But finally, it was time for the recital. Bucky went early to the concert hall with Natasha and Clint and sat on a hard bench outside the auditorium, because Natasha had banned him from “peeking” before the show.

“So glad it’s gonna be over,” Clint mumbled to Bucky just before Natasha dragged him inside. Bucky gave him a sympathetic thumbs-up. His phone buzzed in his pocket after he’d been waiting for about five minutes.

 _Rhodey is freaking out about seeing Carol_ , Steve reported. _He says I have no fashion sense so he wants your opinion on his clothes._

_I’m so honored to be his second opinion._ Bucky sent back. _Or like…tenth or eleventh._

Steve sent him a picture of Rhodey and Bucky took his time examining it. _Looks good_ , he eventually said.

_That’s what I said too._

Bucky laughed a little. _Don’t know why he wouldn’t want your opinion—you’re such a fashionista. Khakis and a button-down? Truly inspired._

 _Duck you_ , Steve sent back right away, then followed with, _Damn I meant fuck._

Bucky laughed out loud. _Are you wearing khakis and a button-down right now?_

It was a few minutes before Steve answered. _Are you sexting me?_

Bucky choked a little. If he was in a movie and drinking something, he would have done a spit-take. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? _Depends_ , he sent back to buy himself some more time.

_On?_

_If you’re wearing khakis._

Steve sent him a picture of his hand flipping Bucky the bird in response. Bucky shook his head, chuckling. He never believed it if someone had told him what a sassy little shit Steve Rogers was the first day he’d met him. He was all earnestness and strong jawline before he got to know you, but after that, all bets were off.

Bucky had to wait around for another half an hour before everyone else showed up. Rhodey was carrying flowers and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Those for Natasha and Clint?” He teased. Rhodey flushed.

“Well, I…”

“Relax, man, I’m just teasing you. Flowers are perfect,” Bucky assured him. “Even if a girl doesn’t like flowers themselves, she’ll love the idea that you bought them for her.”

“Do you go on lots of dates?” Monty asked, wide-eyed at Bucky’s prowess.

“Well…uh, yeah, kinda,” Bucky said, because he couldn’t exactly tell an eleven-year-old his version of dates were one-night-stands. Sam caught his eye and cracked up laughing. Bucky shook his head, trying to hold in his own laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Jim asked innocently. “You don’t really go on lots of dates?”

“Okay,” Steve cut in smoothly. “Let’s go sit down.” He shot Sam and Bucky a dirty look, which only made them both laugh harder.

“Yeah, Bucky, don’t you go on lots of dates?” Maria muttered as the three of them snickered.

“You’re all incredibly immature,” Steve sniffed as he held open the door and herded the kids through.

“You asked me about sexting earlier,” Bucky pointed out once Jacques, the last in line, was in the auditorium and out of earshot. Sam choked.

“You know, boys, there are some things you can keep to yourself,” Maria said, shaking her head. “Don’t need to know that about either of you.”

“I wasn’t—that’s out of context!” Steve protested, bright red.

“Mm-hmm.” Sam raised an eyebrow as he passed Steve.

“You’re a menace,” Steve told Bucky as they walked in together.

“Never got many complaints before,” Bucky leered. Steve huffed and shoved him. “Oh, now who’s immature?” Bucky complained before hip-checking Steve. They elbowed and bumped each other all the way to their row—the row that was completely occupied with current members of the Rogers household.

Steve leaned forward to look down the row and pointed at the older boys. They all held up their empty hands and looked as innocent as possible. Steve made the universal sign for _I’m watching you_ by pointing to his eyes and then at them, then settled back into his seat nonchalantly like nothing had happened.

“Really?” Bucky asked, laughing a little.

“Steve is secretly a helicopter mom,” Sam snorted.

“I was just reminding them not to use their phones during the show,” Steve said defensively.

“By creepily threatening them not unlike a serial killer?” Maria teased. Steve looked slightly wounded, but before he could say anything else, the lights dimmed and the studio owner came out to introduce the show.

If he were being perfectly honest, Bucky would admit he found ballet sort of fascinating. He’d always liked dancing, and wasn’t half bad at it, if he did say so himself, but he stuck to the usual stuff, to dances he could learn in his bedroom from a YouTube video. Ballet was something else, and he ended up leaning forward in awe.

Just before Natasha and Clint’s class came out, Bucky caught Steve watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Bucky murmured. Steve smiled at him in a way that had butterflies kicking up in Bucky’s stomach.

“You’re getting pretty into this, huh?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know.” Bucky shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s just…amazing. That people can do that. That they have that much control over their bodies. They’re graceful and they’re strong and their bodies are totally _whole_ —” He cut himself off, flushing. He hadn’t meant to admit to that point.

Steve’s eyes, sad and maybe a little angry, cut down to Bucky’s empty sleeve. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said.

Bucky shrugged. This conversation was a bit intense for a community ballet recital. Luckily, the teacher announced Natasha and Clint, so he turned to face forward again and whooped along with the boys. A few heads were swiveling to their full row and loud cheers, and Steve’s winning smile stopped a lot of dirty looks in their tracks.

Natasha and Clint were, frankly, amazing. Clint was only a little bit larger than Natasha, and they moved together perfectly. Natasha’s face was full of grit and determination, until Clint gave her an exaggerated cheeky wink and she couldn’t help a giggle, even in the midst of dancing. The audience was absolutely enchanted.

When the music faded out and they came to a stop, the whole auditorium rose for a standing ovation. The bright lights in their eyes didn’t make much difference for Natasha and Clint spotting the group; Tim was yelling, “Wahoo!” loudly and Tony stuck two fingers in his mouth for a whistle that cut even above the applause.

Bucky could tell some of the more distinguished audience members were annoyed with how improper they were getting, but as he watched Thor jump up and down and Jim lift Jacques up to see better and Steve cup his hands around his mouth to cheer, Bucky couldn’t care. He shook his head a little, grinning. Steve could deny it all he wanted, but this was a family, no two ways about it.

 

Bucky woke up in a cold sweat. It wasn’t unusual, really. At least he hadn’t been screaming. The nightmare had already faded, but he wouldn’t doubt he knew what it was—the buzz of a saw, gritty sand in his mouth, the burn of the sun on his skin. It was pretty much always the same.

He took a deep breath and held it for a count of ten, closing his eyes and hoping he’d fall back to sleep. The sky outside was still inky black, pierced through with so many stars it almost didn’t look real. After a few minutes, he sighed and sat up. There was a stash of chamomile tea in the kitchen. He’d already used it more than once. Sometimes it helped.

When Bucky got the kitchen, he was surprised to see Tony sitting at the table, staring blearily down into a mug.

“What are you doing up?” Bucky asked.

“None of your business,” Tony grumbled, obviously too tired to put much heat behind it. Bucky watched him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out the box of tea bags. There were bags under Tony’s eyes and his skin looked clammy. More than that, the slump of his shoulders and the look on his face were too familiar to Bucky. Tony was up for the same reason Bucky was.

“I sure wish I wasn’t awake,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, I wish that too,” Tony shot back. Bucky laughed a little. He’d walked right into that one.

“But sometimes I just can’t take the dreams anymore, you know?” Bucky continued. “During the day I can push it to the back of my mind, focus on other stuff, but at night it all just creeps up on me.”

Tony looked up at Bucky to pointedly roll his eyes. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Do you know how many therapists I’ve been to? Yeah, so what, I couldn’t sleep. Don’t try to go all Dr. Phil on me.”

Bucky shrugged and brought his mug to the table, taking the seat across from Tony. “Alright,” he agreed. “You don’t want my touchy-feely bullshit I learn in teacher school, that it?"

“That’s exactly it.” Tony stood up and took his mug to the sink. Bucky held in a sigh but didn’t say anything. Tony didn’t have to like him. He’d never outright ignored any instructions Bucky gave him during self-defense and language tutoring. That was good enough.

Tony paused before he left the room. “Bruce says doing yoga before bed helps,” he said without turning around. Bucky felt like he was holding his breath.

“Yeah?” He ventured. Tony shrugged, still facing away from Bucky.

“Whatever you do, don’t bug them.” He tipped his head toward the back porch and then left. Bucky stood up so he could peek out the window.

Sam and Maria were swaying together slowly. Dancing, he realized. Bucky couldn’t hear any music. Maybe they didn’t have any. Maybe they didn’t need any. As he watched, Sam murmured something in Maria’s ear and she tipped her head back and laughed. They both wore fond, gentle smiles.

It made a lonely ache rise up in Bucky’s chest, and he backed away. He shouldn’t be watching them in their private moment. His throat felt tight. He picked up his mug and turned off the kitchen light, deciding to drink his tea in his room. As he stepped through the doorway, he noticed Steve in the living room, looking out the window at Sam and Maria dancing. The look on his face made the tight band in Bucky’s chest constrict even more. He looked exactly how Bucky felt.

Steve noticed him and their eyes caught. They stared at each other for a minute, and Bucky found himself actually having to blink back tears. It would only take three steps to be in front of Steve, close enough to touch. He wanted to. God, he did.

As he was about to finally take a step, Steve blinked and looked away. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shrugged one shoulder without looking at Bucky, and walked out of the room, going the opposite direction of the stairs that would take him to his bedroom. A minute later, Bucky heard his office door snick shut, and Bucky was left alone in the living room, clutching his cold tea.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky started actively working to put his feelings for Steve aside, to put the feelings he knew he saw in Steve’s eyes aside. Steve obviously wasn’t ready, or didn’t really want Bucky, or thought it was inappropriate. Whatever the reason, Steve wasn’t willing to acknowledge anything between them, and Bucky wasn’t going to push.

It _was_ inappropriate. Steve was his boss. And besides, Steve’s wife had only been gone a year. He probably needed more time than that to be ready for a new relationship, especially since he’d loved her so much. And Bucky wasn’t going to hang around waiting for him. He was there for the summer and then he was going back to his real life. He’d done the waiting around thing, for a guy in the closet once. All it led to, in Bucky’s experience, was misery.

So he ignored it. He considered Steve a friend; they could stay friends. Bucky was fine with that. He liked Steve a lot, not just romantically, and he didn’t want to stop being friends just because he had complicated feelings. He could repress it all.

“Yo, Barnes,” Sam said one morning after their run. “Maria and I are going out for drinks on Saturday night. You in?”

Sunday was Bucky’s day off, so technically he could go out and get hammered if he wanted and not have to worry about a hangover with the kids the next day. It was tempting. He was stressed over trying to suppress his feelings for Steve. But the letter from Libby was still sitting, sealed, on the desk in his room, and it was a reminder of what he’d done.

“Uh…no. Thanks.”

“Come on, I know Sunday’s your day off!” Sam wheedled. “Maybe do some dancing, meet someone nice?”

It sounded nice. It sounded _so_ nice. Bucky loved dancing, and a good screw wouldn’t go amiss. And it had probably been long enough that he could go to a bar and not drink. He could get his hand stamped as a designated driver and have that added responsibility. But just the thought of being inside a bar again made his breath pick up. He just couldn’t go back. He’d worked so hard to change what he’d become; he didn’t want to slip up. He _wouldn’t_ slip up, not after what happened with Becca and not when he had his job and these kids depending on him.

“I, um.” He licked his lips. “I’m on the wagon, man,” he murmured, awkward. He hadn’t had to explain himself much. He didn’t really have any friends at school to invite him to things like this.

“Oh, shit, man, sorry,” Sam apologized immediately. “We could go do something else, no problem.”

“Nah, come on, you guys can go have fun. I’ll just stay here.” Bucky shrugged. Sam gave him a look.

“Alright, look, I don’t know you super well, but you don’t strike me as the hermit type. Okay? And you haven’t even been taking your days off, let alone going out. If you shut yourself in here too much you’ll go crazy. So you’re going to come with us, and we’re going to go to a dry club that just opened, and you’re going to dance your ass off.”

Bucky laughed a little. “Well, it doesn’t sound like you’re giving me much choice.”

“I’m not. I already made your plans.” Sam grinned at him widely. “Maybe you’ll show off your great ‘dating’ skills, huh? We’ll see if you really have any game.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Bucky snorted.

“Please. My game’s legendary.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” Sam crowed.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Bucky was actually feeling pretty excited about the whole thing. He hadn’t been dancing in forever, since he gave up drinking, because it seemed impossible to find anywhere to go dancing without the threat of booze hanging over him.

And he was hoping a good no-strings fling could help get Steve off his mind. They were in close quarters, seeing each other every day, and Bucky hadn’t been with anyone in months. A good one-night stand would clear his hand.

On the way over, Sam mentioned Steve’s birthday. “It’s next week,” he said. “He won’t plan anything for himself, of course, because he’s ridiculous, but Maria and Gabe are going to make a cake and Jarvis is getting fireworks.”

“Fireworks?” Bucky asked.

“His birthday’s July fourth,” Maria filled him in, laughing.

“You are shitting me,” Bucky groaned. “He was in the Army and he takes in abused and abandoned children and his birthday is the Fourth of July.”

“We call him Captain America sometimes,” Sam said.

“I actually prefer to call him the Statue of Liberty because of the adoption angle, but it never seemed to catch on,” Maria admitted, chagrined.

“Ridiculous,” Bucky snorted. “But how does the human embodiment of freedom feel about not being in the States for Independence Day?”

“He doesn’t miss the big, booming fireworks, as I assume you can understand.” Sam nodded toward Bucky. “We all understand, actually. Maria served, too, you know.”

“Fuck, Army?”

“Oorah,” she said, raising an eyebrow. Bucky gave her an appraising glance. A Marine.

“Does Steve only employ ex-military?”

Sam made a face. “Why, do you think it makes him seem a little paranoid?” He rolled his eyes a little to show it was exactly what he thought.

Bucky laughed a little. “So cake and small fireworks? Shit, I gotta get him a present.”

Maria snorted. “Just show up; that’s all the present he needs from you.”

“What?” Bucky asked, sure she couldn’t be saying what he thought she was saying. Sam gave Maria a warning look.

“You don’t have to get him anything,” he reassured Bucky. “The kids usually just make him cards.”

“Wait, what did you mean—”

“Nothing,” Sam cut him off before he could even finish his question. “We’re here. No more questions; let’s party.”

Bucky was a little nervous when they went in. Since getting home, he’d only been somewhere with a crush of people in a too-small space with the help of alcohol. He had to take a few deep breaths as people squeezed past him and accidentally bumped into him.

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand there, grounding Bucky, and Bucky focused on that. It helped. And then, after a few minutes, his shoulders relaxed. Sam raised his eyebrows, a silent question, and Bucky nodded. Sam grinned and moved his hand away, reaching for Maria and pulling her close to dance. Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed, glancing around. He didn’t necessarily _need_ a partner, really, but finding one wouldn’t be terrible.

There was a guy out there dancing that Bucky instantly zeroed in on. He was bouncing from partner to partner and Bucky was man enough to admit that part of the reason he was drawn to the guy was because he was tall, buff, and blond. He didn’t have a type as a general rule, but there was maybe something to the idea that he wanted something specific these days.

Bucky moved through the crowd to get close to him. The guy gave him an appreciative once-over and Bucky smirked at him. The guy tried to come dance up against Bucky and Bucky flitted away, tossing a look over his shoulder at the guy. Oh yeah, big blondie definitely appreciated the teasing.

Bucky was so getting laid.

Bucky danced with a few women, because there was just something about curves under his hand he’d never tire of, but eventually he went back to the guy, finally allowing him to get close enough to press his body flush against Bucky’s. They danced for a while, devolving with each song from dancing into more of an upright grinding, until the guy murmured into Bucky’s ear,

“Mit zu mir kommen.”

“Ja,” Bucky breathed, pressing their lips together. He looked around for Sam and Maria and saw them a few feet away. Bucky stared at the side of Sam’s head until he turned and their eyes met. Bucky nodded toward the guy he was dancing with and then the door, wiggling his eyebrows. Sam looked the guy up and down and raised an eyebrow but held up his phone questioningly. Bucky dislodged the guy’s hands from his ass for a second to pull out his own phone to show Sam. Sam nodded and gave Bucky a smirk and a thumb’s up. Maria was cracking up beside him. Bucky snapped off a cheeky salute and turned back to his dance partner, jerking a head toward the door. The guy’s eyes lit up.

The guy, Julian, was great in bed and didn’t mind when Bucky shook his head _no_ when he tried to pull the shirt over Bucky’s head, just shrugged before pushing it up a little to press his lips to Bucky’s abs, and that was nothing to complain about. He even made Bucky eggs in the morning. He was sweet and complimented Bucky’s German and laughed easily. Neither of them brought up exchanging numbers or meeting again. It was nice. It was uncomplicated.

It did not get Steve out of Bucky’s head.

When Bucky got back to the house—in a cab Julian paid for, no less—Steve was sitting out on the dock, drawing. He looked up when Bucky closed the door of the car and caught Bucky’s eye as the car drove away. Bucky raised his hand and waved. Steve stood up and started heading in Bucky’s direction. Bucky hesitated for a second, but walked over so they met halfway.

“Where were you?” Steve asked, taking in Bucky’s rumpled clothes and the hickey on his neck with a deep frown.

Bucky felt himself puffing up in irritation. Steve had absolutely no right. “Met someone last night.”

“You went home with a stranger?”

“It’s not exactly uncommon, you know,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“Did you even get her name?” Steve asked, jaw stuck out.

“ _His_ name’s Julian,” Bucky spat. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Steve pursed his lips a little but took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’re right,” he said shortly. “Sorry.” He strode off without a backward glance, and Bucky had to fight the urge to chuck a handful of gravel from the driveway at him.

  
On Steve’s birthday, he pretended not to know about any celebration plans, while the younger kids giggled about having a secret. Bucky had gotten him a present after all, but he was second and third guessing himself. It was just a bunch of fancy art pencils, nothing too special, and he started to wonder if that was silly. But it was too late to get anything else, so he told himself to shut up and dug up some wrapping paper and tape.

And then realized he didn’t know how to do this one-handed.

Bucky blew out a long, frustrated breath, grumbling a little to himself. When he poked his head out his door, Tim was just coming up the stairs. Perfect.

“Tim!” Bucky said. “Are you busy right now?”

“It’s summer,” Tim pointed out. “I’m never busy. Well, except for self-defense and language tutoring.”

“Great, get in here. I need some help.”

Tim came in and saw the wrapping paper. He looked between it and Bucky’s left side and then nodded. “Got it.” He sat down on the bed and set to work.

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said sincerely. “I haven’t wrapped a present since I lost my arm. Didn’t even think about it.”

Tim was quiet for a minute, fussing with the paper and the scissors, and Bucky could tell he wanted to ask a question. He had a feeling he knew what question it would be, and dropped cautiously onto the edge of the bed beside Tim.

“You can ask,” he murmured. “If you want.”

Tim looked at him, pressing his lips together, and then blurted, “How’d you lose your arm?”

Bucky turned the answer over in his head carefully. Libby had only been thirteen when Bucky had come home an arm short, so he’d given her a pretty sanitized version of events. Tim was nearly as old as Sadie had been, and he’d told Sadie most of it.

He sighed a little. “I was in the Army,” he started slowly. “I was a sniper. And I was very, very good at it. So good that I started getting sent on special missions. And, uh. We ran into some trouble on one mission, and I got captured and…tortured.”

“They cut off your arm?” Tim whispered, eyes wide with horror. Bucky winced.

“No, actually. Well.” He cleared his throat and changed his mind. “Yes.” Tim gave him a look and Bucky thought of what he’d said the first day during self-defense. _I’m not a baby. I can handle it._ “They didn’t cut it off all at once,” he finally said. “That was part of the torture. The doctors had to amputate what was left after I got rescued because it was pretty…” He swallowed convulsively. “Mutilated.”

“Shit,” Tim breathed.

Bucky focused on a flower in the wallpaper and breathed slowly for a ten-count. “Don’t swear,” he said weakly when he could speak again.

Tim stared down at the half-wrapped present. “Did you go to therapy?”

“I was in the hospital for almost two weeks, and then I did physical therapy for a year afterward. I still have exercises and stretches I gotta do.”

“No,” Tim said. “I mean…therapy.” He tapped a finger against his temple.

Bucky paused. “Uh…nope.”

“ _No_?” Tim echoed. “You didn’t go to therapy after that?” His voice had gone up practically an octave in incredulity.

“Tried my own kind of therapy,” Bucky told him wryly, making the motion of drinking from a bottle. “It didn’t work.”

“You should ask Sam about therapy for war veterans,” Tim said seriously. “I went to therapy. We all go at least once a month in New York, more often if we need it. Steve and Peggy're real strict about that.”

“I don’t know if I could tell someone about everything,” Bucky admitted.

“You just told me,” Tim pointed out brightly, apparently thinking that short version was the whole story. He looked so excited about it, like he thought he’d helped Bucky with some kind of breakthrough, that Bucky couldn’t put out that light in his eyes. He forced a smile.

“Yeah, so I don’t need therapy if I got you, huh?” He quickly changed the subject. “So, your birthday’s coming up in about a month, right? Eighteen’s a big one.”

Tim’s smile dimmed and he went back to focusing on wrapping the present. “Yeah.”

“What’s the deal?” Bucky asked, point-blank. “Why aren’t you excited?” Tim shrugged and didn’t say anything. Bucky shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I told you mine, you tell me yours.”

Tim grimaced, but Bucky knew Tim was big on fairness and wouldn’t be able to fight that logic. “I’ll be eighteen,” he said. “I’m not, you know. In the system anymore.”

Bucky didn’t get what he was saying at first, and then he was confused. “I thought Steve adopted you.”

“My parents never terminated their rights,” Tim mumbled. “I’m just a foster kid.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. And then he _really_ got what Tim was saying. “ _Oh_. Tim—no, come on. You don’t really think Steve’s going to send you packing, do you?”

Tim shrugged. “He can if he wants to.”

“Sure, but he’s not going to. There’s no way he wants to.” Bucky tugged the now-wrapped present out of Tim’s hands and made him look up. “Tim, Steve loves you. He’s never going to kick you out. You have to know that.”

Tim shrugged again. “I know. I mean, I guess I do. It’s just—” He broke off.

“Scary?” Bucky suggested softly. Tim nodded.

“Scary,” he echoed.

Bucky clapped his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Well, listen up. There is absolutely no way it’ll come to this, but if aliens invade and body snatch Steve and he says you can’t stay after your birthday, you can come live with me. Okay?”

That got a little chuckle out of Tim, and he nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Bucky.”

“No problem,” Bucky promised. “Just know I _will_ make you do chores.”

Tim scoffed. “I would never do your slave labor.”

Bucky grabbed Tim and pulled him under his armpit in a headlock. “If I had another arm, I’d give you a noogie.”

Tim laughed. “Sucks to be you!” He darted out from Bucky’s arm and ran out the door, cackling. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, even after the sound faded.

  
Steve’s birthday dinner was so stereotypical American it hurt. Mashed potatoes, peas, and roast beef, with hot biscuits and tall glasses of milk for everyone except Jim, who, it turned out, was lactose intolerant.

“It’s terrible if Jim has milk,” Monty confided in an undertone.

“’Cause he farts a lot,” Clint added helpfully. He and Monty then dissolved into further toilet humor and giggles.

They had cake for dessert—Bucky remarked that he’d expected apple pie, and Steve admitted, ruefully, it _was_ his favorite kind of pie—and made Steve blow out all twenty-eight candles.

“Did you make a wish?” Natasha demanded. Steve looked up and happened to catch Bucky’s eye. He blushed furiously, all the way down his neck, and Bucky felt his stomach lurch.

“Yeah,” Steve promised. “I did.” Bucky ignored a little huff from his left, where Maria was sitting.

Everyone ran out to the yard, close to the dock and the lake, for fireworks. They were small, mostly smoke and lights, with no loud booms or explosions. Bucky couldn’t pretend he wasn’t grateful for that. There were also sparklers, and Steve facilitated all the kids getting one and the lighting. He came over to Bucky with a lit sparkler, his face illuminated in pink and yellow sparks, grinning wide.

“Here, Buck,” he said, offering the sparkler. Their fingers brushed on the hand-off, and all Bucky could think about was a super lame comparison of the sparks between them and the firework.

“Thanks,” Bucky managed to say, mouth and throat dry at the sight of Steve’s smile all lit up like that.

“You’re welcome,” Steve murmured, his eyes soft. Bucky had to look away first. So much for setting aside his feelings.

Eventually, they ran out of fireworks, and the night was getting late. Steve started gathering the kids to go in and go to bed. Bucky wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but in the shuffle, he ended up alone on the dock. It was nice. He listened to the nighttime sounds, the lap of water, the crickets all around him.

And then the sound of furtive footsteps.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and twisted around. Tony’s eyes went wide when he saw he’d been caught sneaking out. They stared at each other for a minute, and the Bucky slowly, deliberately, waved and turned back around to face the lake. There was a pause, and then Tony hurried off, through the bushes to climb the back fence. Bucky didn’t know if he’d made the right decision, in terms of his job. What if something happened to Tony?

But part of him just couldn’t fight the nostalgia of it. A summer night, sneaking out, a girl waiting for a late-night walk and a little awkward fumbling in the dark…it described a few of Bucky’s teenage summers, too, and he couldn’t help but think it was harmless for Tony to have that.

Bucky didn’t know how much longer he sat there before Steve came out. Butterflies erupted in Bucky’s stomach at the first sound of Steve’s footfalls. He didn’t know how—maybe it was from the syrupy warmth of the night air, maybe it was the teenage romance he’d facilitated, maybe it was just everything they’d been building toward—but some part of Bucky knew exactly what Steve was coming out here for.

“Happy birthday,” Bucky murmured as Steve took a seat next to him.

“Thanks,” Steve said quietly. “Thanks for the pencils."

Bucky shrugged. “Kinda dumb.”

“Nah. I go through drawing pencils fast.”

They were quiet for a while, listening to the summer sounds around them, sitting with their feet in the water and shoulders pressed together. Bucky could feel how warm Steve was all along his side. Finally, Steve took a breath, and Bucky’s heart went up to his throat. It was happening. He turned slowly to face Steve, biting his lip.

Steve just looked at him for a minute, a little smile on his face while his eyes roamed over Bucky’s face, his shoulders, his feet in the water. Then Steve reached out and put a hand on the side of Bucky’s neck.

“Is this okay?” He whispered as he leaned in.

“God, yes,” Bucky practically whimpered, closing the distance. Steve’s lips, those pink, pert lips that had been driving Bucky nuts for months, were soft and pliant and Bucky couldn’t hold back a little sigh. Steve opened his mouth and Bucky slipped his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve inhaled sharply through his nose, hand sliding from Bucky’s neck to the back of his head and tangling in his hair. His other hand went to Bucky’s hip and wound around his waist.

Bucky only had the one hand, so he kept moving it around. He wanted to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, so he did. And then he wanted to feel the muscles in Steve’s back, so he did that next. But once he’d felt Steve’s back, of course, he needed to feel his chest, too, so he did. He wished he had about four more arms, because he wanted to feel it all.

Bucky drew one knee up so he could face Steve better and rose up a little on his knee. Steve made a noise of assent and followed suit, and then, since they were halfway there anyway, they both pulled their other foot out of the water. They were kneeling on the dock, pressed together, and Bucky thought he might die right there.

And then Steve rolled his hips.

Bucky groaned into Steve’s mouth and leaned closer into Steve, guiding him down onto the dock so Bucky could get on top of him. This—their bodies flush, Steve’s hands roaming up and down his back, settling on his ass—was heaven. Had to be. Bucky moved his lips to Steve’s neck, grinding against Steve, and Steve let out the most sinful, breathy moan Bucky had ever heard. This was going to be over embarrassingly soon if Bucky didn’t get himself together.

Steve seemed to have the same idea, because he stopped his hips and pushed gently at Bucky to get him to stop. Steve slid out from under him and rose up to his knees. Bucky had a split second to wonder if that was it before Steve’s hands went to Bucky’s fly.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned as Steve opened his pants and pulled his dick free. “I don’t have a condom.”

Steve paused for a second. “I do,” he said, pulling one from his back pocket and fumbling a little to open it.

“Well, wasn’t someone feeling optimistic,” Bucky teased, clenching all his muscles as Steve put it on him.

“I believe in the power of positive thinking,” Steve said. He was kneeling over Bucky, who was still lying on his back, and gave him a wicked little grin before bending his head and taking Bucky in his mouth. “Holy shit, oh God.” Bucky couldn’t stop talking. It was a chronic problem.

It didn’t take long, but Bucky couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it. He clenched his fingers in Steve’s hair, tugging lightly to get Steve to pull off. “Steve—Stevie, I’m gonna—”

Steve kept at it until Bucky was shooting off in his mouth, cursing hoarsely and trying to keep his hips still. Bucky lay there panting while Steve pulled off the condom, tucked him back into his pants, and buttoned and zipped him back up before moving up to cuddle next to Bucky, head on Bucky’s left shoulder. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about Bucky’s arm falling asleep.

“Fuck,” Bucky said succinctly. “Jesus. That was…” He whistled. “Amazing.”

Steve chuckled. “Good thing you told me, because I just couldn’t quite tell if you were into it in the moment. You’re so quiet and stoic.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “And you’re still so full of sass, even now.”

“What can I say, it’s an art,” Steve said with a shrug. Bucky reached down to cup Steve through his pants. It was so gratifying to feel how hard he was, to see his eyelashes flutter and hear his breathing stutter.

“What do you want?” Bucky whispered, lips against Steve’s hair. “Tell me.”

Steve shook his head. “Anything,” he choked out. “God, anything.”

Bucky got Steve’s pants open and jerked him off. It wasn’t fancy, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He clutched at Bucky and whined, thrusting his hips, until he spilled over Bucky’s hand. He breathed hard into Bucky’s neck for a minute, catching his breath while Bucky deliberated. The problem with having only one hand was that he didn’t have a clean one to use to put Steve’s clothes to rights. But Steve must have caught on to the issue, because he reached into his pocket and pulled out an honest-to-God handkerchief and cleaned off Bucky’s hand and then himself.

“A handkerchief?” Bucky snorted. “You’re so ninety.”

“Uh, do you want to walk back inside with that all over your hand?” Steve asked archly. “Didn’t think so. Don’t mock my handkerchief.”

“I could just dunk my hand in the lake.”

Steve looked scandalized. “Who knows what that would do to the wildlife?”

“What does that say about _you_?” Bucky laughed, and Steve looked at him with so much warmth and fondness that his breath hitched a little. Steve buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Happy birthday to me,” he said wryly, making Bucky bark out another laugh. Steve threaded his fingers through Bucky’s, and Bucky made a face.

“You don’t know where that hand’s been,” he murmured. “Very unsanitary.”

“Oh, I know exactly where it’s been,” Steve chuckled. “And I do not mind one bit.”

They were quiet after that, listening to the crickets and the water and each other’s breathing, wrapped up and holding each other tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo that happened. I _never_ write sex scenes. Never ever. If you've followed anything else I've written, you've probably noticed that. I'm a big fan of wink, wink, nudge, nudge, fade to black and just imply everything. But here we are. I haven't stopped blushing in like three days.


	6. Chapter 6

It was incredibly easy to convince Steve to come upstairs and stay the night in Bucky’s bed. All he had to do was tug gently on Steve’s hand—which he’d already been holding all the way in from the dock—toward the stairs, and Steve gave him a sleepy, contented smile and followed him. It felt amazing to feel Steve burrow into bed behind him, nosing at the back of his neck and mumbling, “Good night,” against his skin.

Bucky woke up alone, but he looked at the clock and saw he’d missed the morning run he normally took with Sam and Steve. Steve probably got up and went, because Steve was practically a machine. Bucky stretched languidly, smiling softly as he thought back to last night, and let himself just lie still for a while before getting up for a quick rinse in the shower before breakfast. He didn’t want to face eleven kids smelling like sex.

Steve wasn’t at breakfast, which was pretty strange. “You kill him on your run and stash him in the woods?” Bucky asked Sam. Sam shook his head.

“He didn’t run with me. He’s been in his office all morning.” Sam pursed his lips, glancing at the closed door of Steve’s office, and Bucky felt the back of his neck prickle.

“Maybe he got an email or something with some work in it,” he tried.

“Maybe,” Sam said with a shrug. He didn’t sound convinced, but then the kids came running down the stairs and Bucky couldn’t put too much thought into it.

Steve didn’t come out for self-defense. He didn’t come out for lunch. He didn’t show up for language tutoring. Bucky was freaking out. But this _wasn’t_ his fault. Steve had been the one to start everything. Bucky had been doing his best to be good.

“Did Steve go away again?” Natasha asked when everyone came in from swimming. Bucky hadn’t gone outside, unable or unwilling to sit on the dock when his position with Steve felt precarious.

“No, he’s just working,” Bucky promised, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Work is stupid,” she declared. Bucky wanted to agree with her.

“Well, somebody’s got to do it,” he pointed out instead. “The world would fall apart if no one worked.”

Natasha sighed. “Fine,” she acquiesced. “But I need someone to dance with me. Clint won’t do it.”

“He won’t?” Bucky was pretty surprised about that. Besides the fact that Clint did pretty much anything Natasha asked him to, he was always excited to go to their weekly ballet class.

Natasha put her hands on her hips. “He says I killed him before the recital and he won’t dance with me anymore unless we’re at class or we have a recital.” She stuck out her lip in a pout. “I want to dance.”

Bucky held in a laugh. Clint loved Natasha, but apparently he had his limits about her drill sergeant dance routines. Bucky stuck out his hand for Natasha to take. “I’ll dance with you,” he offered, bowing regally over her hand when she took his. She giggled.

“Do you even know how to dance ballet?” She asked skeptically, pulling him toward the gym even before he answered.

“Well, no,” he admitted. “But you can tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Your wish is my command.”

She grinned and pulled harder at his arm. “Come on!” She was clearly loving the idea of bossing him around. He huffed a little. He may have just bitten off more than he could chew.

Natasha was certainly serious about dancing, but Bucky did his best to follow her instructions, even when he was pretty sure she was just pushing his buttons to see how far he’d go to obey her. When she told him he had to hop on one foot and make chicken sounds, he snatched her up and twirled her around.

“You trying to make me look silly?” He demanded. She giggled madly.

“No, it’s part of ballet!” She insisted, shrieking with laughter as he rested her against his leg and tickled her side.

“I’ve never seen any chicken ballets.”

“Swan Lake!” She said, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“We’re having dinner soon,” Steve said out of nowhere, and only Bucky’s quick reflexes kept him from dropping poor Natasha in his shock. She jumped a little, also startled, and clung to him for a second before she realized it was Steve.

“You scared us,” she scolded, slipping out of Bucky’s arm and giving Steve a stern look.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized seriously. “I kind of knocked, but I think you guys were having too much fun to hear me.”

That seemed to satisfy Natasha. “Can we have a picnic for dinner?”

Steve shrugged. “Sure, if you can convince everyone else, too. What’s the rule?”

“We eat dinner together as much as we can,” Natasha recited, sounding incredibly put-upon. “Fine. As soon as I get Tim on my side he’ll make everyone else agree.”

“You think you can get Tim on your side?” Steve asked teasingly.

Natasha stuck her tongue out at him. “Tim does anything I ask him to.” She skipped out of the room and Steve shook his head ruefully.

“I’m afraid that’s going to be true of most men for most of her life.”

They were alone now, and Bucky could feel his palm sweating. Steve was starting to blush, which would have seemed like a good thing but for the fact that he wouldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Well,” Steve said awkwardly. “Pierce sent me another report I’ve got to finish reading before dinner.”

“Steve—” Bucky tried, but he was already gone.

  
Bucky couldn’t sleep. The other side of the bed still smelled like Steve. Or maybe he was just imagining it. Either way, the damn thing was mocking him. All that open space, when last night it was filled. Steve wasn’t avoiding Bucky, necessarily, because they’d both been at dinner, but he wouldn’t look directly at Bucky and hadn’t spoken to him at all, and he’d retreated to his office as soon as everyone was done eating.

 _But_ he’s _the one who came to_ me, Bucky thought stubbornly. What could Bucky have possibly done to fuck it up? He huffed angrily and sat up. His sister’s unopened letter on his dresser caught his eye, and he growled. This was definitely not a good time.

He dug the heel of his hand into one eye and tried breathing deep, but that didn’t help the rising panic he felt in his chest. He needed to move. Bucky pulled on sweats and a shirt and slipped quietly down the stairs.

Tony was sitting at the table, chin resting on his hand, staring at a chess board.

“Need a partner?” Bucky whispered. Tony jumped and glared.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to sneak up on people?”

“No,” Bucky said truthfully. “I was a sniper. I got told the opposite of that.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You play chess?”

“I know the basic idea,” Bucky hedged. There had been a week after he read the first Harry Potter book when he’d wanted to get really into chess, but he’d lost interest pretty quickly. He’d been a good student, but he’d always been more interested in being outside.

Tony shrugged and set up the board silently, face a bit more intent than Bucky thought it needed to be. He’d probably been up with nightmares again. They went a few moves without speaking before Tony looked up at Bucky, eyes narrowed.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he accused.

Bucky shrugged. “Not really. Want to put money on it and clean me out?”

Tony snorted. “Like I need more money.”

“Guess that’s true,” Bucky allowed. He watched Tony chew his bottom lip for another minute. “Were you going to play by yourself?”

“Well, I’m the only person smart enough to make it a fair game.” Tony said it with a sneer, but it seemed halfhearted at best. His shoulders slumped a little. “I used to play with Peggy,” he admitted quietly. “Even in the middle of the night, she’d come out and play with me. I could ask Steve or Rhodey or Bruce, but I don’t want to wake them up.”

Bucky watched him as Tony did—something, Bucky wasn’t actually sure what, as out of his depth here as he was, refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes and pursing his lips after he said it like he wished he hadn’t.

“How do you feel about poker?” Bucky asked. “I’m much better at that.”

Tony hesitated a minute. “I’ll get some cards.”

Bucky smiled. “Well, you’ll have to shuffle. I’ve never figured out how to do it one-handed.”

Tony’s eyes lit up for a second. “I could probably think of a way.”

Bucky laughed. “Alright, do and then teach me. But for now you’re dealing.”

Tony went off to find the cards. Bucky half-rose out of his chair so he could lean over and look at the closed door to Steve’s office. The light was on, coming through the crack under the door, but Bucky gave up hoping Steve was going to come out.

  
Bucky was crawling out of his skin. Steve was definitely avoiding him, and it made his tongue feel thick with panic and anger. What the hell were they going to do for the next six weeks if Steve refused to be in the same room with him? It was awkward as hell. And it made Bucky feel like shit.

He’d had plenty of one-night stands in his life. He’d been strategic enough that he’d never seen any of them again after the morning. But he was living in the same house as Steve.

And he hadn’t exactly planned on Steve being a one-night stand.

He’d been so stupid. Of course Steve didn’t want anything more from him. He was the help, after all. Just because Steve was polite didn’t mean he’d actually want Bucky, especially after Bucky opened his big fat mouth and told Steve just how much of a lowlife he was. Getting sober and going to college didn’t change the fact that he’d almost hit his own sister.

Steve had been married to some phenomenal woman, one who kicked ass and cared about lost kids as much as Steve did, who slipped out of bed in the middle of the night to play chess, who was obviously smart and tough and amazing. Why would he go from that to Bucky?

After about the third time in as many days Steve ducked out of a room just when Bucky walked in, Sam came to stand next to Bucky, leaning against the porch railing as they watched the kids kicking a soccer ball around. They seemed to have invented their own version of the game, involving code names, safe zones, magical weapons, and attacking aliens. Even the older kids were playing along.

“So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess something happened between you and Steve,” Sam said casually. Bucky jerked his head around to look at Sam and could feel how wide his eyes had gone. Sam raised a hand soothingly. “Look, I don’t want details. It’s none of my business. Just so you know, it’s not the first time since Peggy. And not the first guy, either.”

Bucky ran his hand over his eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Sam shrugged. “In case you were feeling guilty that he wasn’t ready or something.”

“I wasn’t,” Bucky said, wondering if that made him a bad person. “But he’s the one who came onto me.”

Sam hummed. “And now he’s freaking out.”

Bucky sighed. “Seems like it.”

They were quiet for a minute, watching as Jacques insisted on making appropriate explosion noises because he’d just blown up an alien vessel.

“I think he feels guilty,” Sam finally said. “He’s got an awfully big martyr complex, if you didn’t notice. I think part of him feels like he needs to stay alone for the rest of his life, like that’s the only way he can honor Peggy.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times. “Then why’d he bother with me?” He asked, sounding as bitter as he felt but more than he’d wanted to let anyone know.

Sam shrugged. “He has feelings for you. I’ve known Steve for a few years now, man, and it’s pretty easy to see. I guarantee you he’s been fighting it since you got here, and finally gave in. Now he’s mad at himself for forgetting Peggy, _and_ he’s mad at himself for hurting you.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Bucky spat. It was a lie, and Sam just raised an eyebrow. Bucky hunched his shoulders.

“You want my opinion?” Sam asked. Nice of him to ask before just sharing it this time. Bucky made a noise that wasn’t really an assent or dissent, but Sam took it as agreement. “He’s freaking out because he’s falling for you. He doesn’t know if that’s okay for him to do.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Bucky’s voice came out broken and he looked away quickly. Sam squeezed his shoulder.

“Give him time. I knew Peggy, too. She’d kick his ass if she knew he was throwing away a good thing. There’s no way she’d want him to be miserable like this. He’ll realize that. And he’ll realize that his feelings for you aren’t going away.”

Bucky couldn’t help the traitorous spark of hope that went up in his heart. “Really?”

Sam gave him a little smile. “You’re good for him, Barnes. You and Peggy have a lot in common, and I hope you don’t take that in a bad way or think he only likes you because you remind him of Peggy. Steve’s got a type, and you fit it. He’ll sweat it out for a few days or weeks, but once he realizes it’s okay for him to want you—once he makes up his mind? He’ll be all in.”

“A few days or weeks,” Bucky echoed. “Shouldn’t he have sweated it all out _before_ he made a move on me?”

“That would have been better,” Sam agreed. “And you have every right to tell him to fuck off when he comes back around. He’s being a real shit to you right now.”

Bucky laughed a little, throat feeling a little tight. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do that, even if I want to.”

Sam laughed too. “Yeah, that asshole’s got something about him, doesn’t he?”

Steve came out the back door. His eyes went wide when he saw Bucky. It annoyed Bucky. Bucky was hired as his fucking nanny. Where did he expect Bucky to be? The only reason Bucky didn’t point this out was because the kids were all right there.

“Steve!” Natasha yelled. “Come play with us!”

“Come on, Cap!” Tim added.

“Be on my team!” Clint requested.

“No, mine!” Jacques countered.

“Sorry, guys,” Steve said quickly, backing away toward the house again. “I have work I need to do.”

His words were met with disappointed groans and objections, but he just smiled without meeting anyone’s eyes and fled. Bucky sighed. Sam threw an arm around his shoulders.

“He’ll come around,” he promised. “He will.”

But he pulled the same disappearing act at dinner, despite the kids’ loud insistence that he watch a movie with them, and Bucky felt guilt curling into his stomach. Avoiding Bucky meant Steve was avoiding his kids, too, but when Bucky tried to retreat so Steve could spend time with them, Natasha grabbed onto his hand and begged him to stay. Steve had already left, and Bucky couldn’t bear to do it, too, so he stuck around.

He’d been hurt, and he’d been mad, but now he felt even worse. These kids had been abandoned already, and the woman they saw as their mother had died. Now Bucky was coming between them and Steve?

Not to mention Bucky was still embarrassed. Waking up alone when you weren’t anticipating it was a pretty terrible feeling. His emotions were a confused jumble and he hated it. With every breakfast Steve skipped, every after-dinner backyard baseball game he begged off, every fake smile he threw, Bucky’s heart took another hit, from both his own hurt and the confused dejection he saw on the kids’ faces. He even noticed Steve’s upset when he left, and that made him feel like shit, too.

The fourth night of Steve acting like Bucky had the plague, Bucky was up with Tony again, playing poker. It was almost two am, and Bucky was just telling Tony he’d probably get back to bed and try to sleep when Steve poked his head into the kitchen.

“Oh,” he said, looking caught.

“Cap!” Tony said, sounding more excited than he was probably comfortable with. “Want to play poker with us? Bucky’s teaching me. I’m getting really good.”

A few different expressions passed quickly over Steve’s face. “Poker?” He finally asked.

“We’re not betting anything real,” Bucky defended himself, not making eye contact with Steve.

“Um,” Steve rubbed at his forehead. “I was going to bed. I’ve been rereading old expense reports all day and my eyes are pretty far gone.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped the tiniest fraction. “Okay.”

“You should probably try to get some sleep, too,” Steve said. His voice was full of regret, and Bucky wanted to punch something. Maybe Steve. Tony fiddled with the bent edge of a card.

“Yeah,” he said noncommittally.

“I’m gonna go—” Bucky started to say.

“Goodnight,” Steve said at the same time. Bucky finally tried to meet Steve's eyes so he could communicate that Steve should stay and he’d go. But Steve wouldn’t look at him.

“Goodnight,” Tony mumbled, staring at the table top. Steve hesitated for another minute before sighing and walking away.

“This is bullshit,” Bucky muttered. He stood up from the table quickly. “Steve.”

He caught Steve just outside the kitchen door. “I’m going to bed,” Steve repeated before Bucky could say anything.

“You gonna keep running away from your kids?” Bucky said accusingly. “I’m the nanny. Au pair. Whatever you want to call it. I’m gonna be around your kids. You gonna let that stop you from giving them the attention they need?”

“This has nothing to do with—” Steve tried to defend himself.

“Right, ‘cause you usually ignore these kids when they ask you to stay with them?” Bucky cut him off. “You’re not a coward, Steve, so why’re you acting like one?”

“Fuck you,” Steve said, walking into his room and shutting the door. Bucky blew out a harsh breath. He saw motion in the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Tony standing there, eyes wide. Bucky rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry about that, please,” Bucky begged. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“What’s going on?” Tony asked. For all his sneers and sarcasm, in the middle of the night he was still a seventeen-year-old kid who’d already lost far more than his fair share of family. There was a tiny tremor in his voice and he was staring at Steve’s closed door.

“There’s nothing going on,” Bucky promised. “Everything’s fine. Okay?”

Tony looked at Bucky. “You think I don’t know when I’m being lied to?” His mouth twisted up into an ugly smile. “I’ve been lied to a lot.”

Bucky’s heart was pounding. How could he be doing this? He was ruining everything for this family that was already perched so precariously on the edge. His stomach was somewhere down by his toes. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It’s not fine. But I’m going to make it fine. I promise.”

Tony searched Bucky’s face. “Okay,” he finally said softly.

“Go to bed,” Bucky said. “Okay? It’ll be fine by morning.”

Bucky went up the stairs with Tony and waited until he saw the door close before going into his own room. He pulled on jeans and a jacket over his ratty t-shirt and threw the rest of his clothes into his duffel bag, abandoned in the closet months ago. He gathered what little belongings he had, stuffed Libby’s letter into the front pocket of his computer bag.

He crept silently down the stairs and out the door. He glanced back at the house, but it was dark and still. No one saw Bucky slip off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

“You weren’t supposed to be back for six weeks,” Fury pointed out when he saw Bucky back at the school. Bucky rubbed his hand across the back of his neck.

“Uh, yeah. I had to come back early.”

“Everything alright?” Fury raised an eyebrow.

Bucky had to take a second to swallow hard. Everything was not alright. Everything was awful, honestly. He’d spent the entire ten hour plane ride and the whole day trying to hold himself together. It wasn’t working terribly well.

“We had some, uh. Personal differences,” Bucky finally said diplomatically.

“You got fired,” Fury said flatly.

“I…don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “I might’ve quit.”

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose and Bucky bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself under control. The fact of the matter was that Fury was probably going to kick him out of the program, and he wouldn’t graduate in December and he’d have to find some menial job he could do with one arm and live the rest of his days torturing himself thinking of the way Steve felt pressed up against him and the way Steve smiled and the feeling of eleven kids clamoring for his attention and the sound of Steve’s laugh.

“Well, classes don’t start for six weeks,” Fury pointed out. “But there’s no rule that you can’t live here. You’re the one paying for housing.”

“You’re not kicking me out?” Bucky asked.

Fury gave him a long stare and then shook his head. “You’re a good teacher, Barnes. There are some personal things you could work on, and you know what I’m talking about when I say that, but I’m not going to boot you with one semester to go.”

Bucky took a shuddering breath, pressing his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “Thanks,” he managed. “I, uh, I’ll see you later.”

He made it back to his room and sat on his bed with his head in his hand for ten minutes. He was twenty-seven years old and he lived in a dorm room with a communal bathroom. He was going to graduate from college with no job prospects and wouldn’t even be able to get a positive reference out of Steve. He’d fallen for probably the best guy on the entire earth, and it had all gone to hell. His life was in shambles.

He let himself wallow in pity for the rest of the day, eating pizza and ice cream in front of a Dog Cops marathon. Because his life wasn’t sad enough.

But he had six weeks to kill, and sitting around on his ass wasn’t going to cut it. He went back to his job at the gym where he worked out and basically begged his manager to let him back in early, since he wasn’t supposed to be back until the new semester started. It was a good thing Connie liked him. At least someone did.

Bucky threw himself into work. Those treadmills and weight machines probably hadn’t been so clean since the day they came off the assembly line. He ran himself to exhaustion every day after work, trying not to think about running with Steve and Sam and Steve’s tight shirts and racing Steve, crowding up against him in an effort to get ahead.

“Hey,” the guy next to him on the treadmill one Friday afternoon said. “You’re cut, man.”

“Thanks,” Bucky responded idly, bumping up his pace.

“Aw, you ain’t gotta show off for me,” the guy guffawed. Bucky forced a smile.

“Just gotta get my sweat going.”

“I can think of a few ways we could get the sweat going.”

Bucky finally looked at the guy, giving him an appraising up-and-down. He was definitely Bucky’s type, (anyone alive and offering some casual sex was usually Bucky’s type), tall and built and with cheek bones that looked like they could cut glass.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, slipped on his old smirk. “Gimme two more miles and I’ll meet you in the showers,” he said, letting his Brooklyn accent out. It did its job; the guy’s eyes went hungry and he nodded eagerly.

As Bucky clenched his fist in the guy’s hair, he didn’t let himself think that it was the wrong color or close his eyes and picture anyone else.

  
Bucky woke up with a bitten-off cry, still in the grip of the terror leftover from the nightmare, chest heaving and sweat dripping uncomfortably down his back. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, taking slow breaths. He pushed back the covers, thinking he’d go down to the kitchen for some chamomile tea; hopefully Tony wasn’t awake tonight, but if he was they could get back to playing poker and then Steve would get up—

No. Bucky was back in New York. There was no kitchen for him to go to downstairs, no kids to tell him silly jokes and make him feel better about himself, and certainly no Steve to ogle and joke with.

Bucky bit at the ragged stubs of his fingernails. He’d walked out on those kids the same way he’d walked out on his sisters. He didn’t even say goodbye. In both cases, he’d slipped away from kids who’d already lost family and stability. Regardless of the fact that they’d all be better off without him, he’d acted like a scared little chickenshit.

Because he was.

He’d left his sisters before he could hurt them. He’d needed to get his head together, clean himself up. He stood by that decision, really. Becca’s face, eyes wide with fear as she looked at him, flashed through his mind, and he swallowed down a wave of nausea.

And as much as Bucky told himself he’d left Salzburg in the kids’ best interest—after all, he _had_ been interfering with them spending time with Steve, even though he hadn’t meant to—he knew the bigger reason he’d left was because he couldn’t stand to be there every day and have Steve avoiding him. As ridiculous as it was for Bucky to have fallen for Steve in only two months, he had, and he’d fallen _hard_. And to get what he’d wanted only to have Steve ignore him…well, he couldn’t handle it.

It was 3 am. Bucky had to be at work at 6:30. He already knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep. So he let himself think about Steve, painful as it was. He thought about the way Steve blushed, pictured Steve’s perfect blue eyes and that gold hair, remembered the feeling of Steve’s abs under his hand. He thought of the picture Steve had shown him, awkward and bashful, of himself as a teenager—short, skinny, scowling into the camera, an inhaler peeping up out of the pocket of his ripped jeans.

“I was a super angry kid,” Steve had admitted with a rueful chuckle.

“Were you angry over that haircut?” Bucky had teased. Steve had rolled his eyes and shoved Bucky good-naturedly.

“I was _angry_ because I was small and sick all the time and had a big chip on my shoulder. I always wanted to prove myself.”

Bucky had raised an eyebrow. “You say that in the past tense like you don’t still have a big chip on your shoulder.”

Steve had opened his mouth to protest, but Sam had stopped him with a loud laugh. “He’s got you there, Steve.”

“Don’t forget that time you ate a whole jar of jalapenos because Peggy told you it was a bad idea,” Maria had chimed in.

Steve had covered his face with his hands and groaned. “You guys are terrible.”

Thinking about it now, in his cold, dark room, Bucky laughed a little, but he had to press his hand over his eyes, too. He was done rethinking everything, wondering where he’d gone wrong—he still couldn’t get it out of his head that _Steve had come onto him_ —but his anger had burnt out and left him sad and aching.

He’d get over it eventually. Two months of knowing the guy and one late-night tryst wasn’t enough to wound him forever, even if it kind of felt like it right now. Steve Rogers wasn’t the first person Bucky had fallen for and he probably (hopefully?) wouldn’t be the last.

When he got to work, Connie raised an eyebrow. “Late night?” She teased. Bucky forced a smile.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, not wanting to explain. Not like he could find the words even if he did want to explain.

“Well, you gonna come to my party tonight?” Connie asked, letting her hair swing over her shoulder. She was flirting with him. Bucky felt very detached from the situation, like he was just an observer.

“Party?” He asked blankly.

Connie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, Sarge, I’ve only been telling you about it all week.”

“Why tonight?” Bucky asked, confused.

Connie gave him a strange look. “Well, it’s Saturday,” she pointed out slowly. Bucky tried to keep the surprise off his face. He hadn’t realized it was Saturday. “Are you alright?” She asked, actually concerned now.

Bucky waved a hand and dredged up a smile. “Days all kinda blend together when I don’t have school and I work the same every hours every day,” he laughed. It sounded a little awkward and forced to his ears, but Connie didn’t seem to notice. The smile was back on her face.

“I know what you mean,” she sympathized. “But you should definitely come.”

Bucky looked at her, looked at the way she was smiling at him, the way she was leaning on the counter to push up her breasts, and had to hold back a sigh. He liked Connie. There was a time he’d have been very into this, into the game of flirting and into Connie, specifically. But he just felt tired. It wasn’t just that he missed Steve; he hadn’t been sleeping well and he was only working thirty hours a week, giving him way too much time to dwell on things he usually pushed aside for the sake of productivity.

Looking at Connie, bright-eyed, twenty-two, _happy_ , Bucky felt like they couldn’t be more different. She was bubbly and upbeat and sweet and Bucky didn’t want to bring her down from that. But he didn’t want to make work awkward by turning her down, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, either.

“I’ll be there,” he promised, another forced smile on his face. She squeezed his arm and got back to work.

The second Bucky walked into the apartment, he wanted to turn around and leave. The music was loud, the bass throbbing through the walls and the ground, and everyone there was already on their way to pretty drunk. Bucky didn’t spend time in places like this anymore. He hooked up with random people he met at work or, a few times, people from his classes; he didn’t go to bars or clubs or parties.

But he had to at least say hi to Connie so she knew he’d kept his word. He wandered around for a while, keeping an eye out, but he didn’t find her until he’d muscled his way into the kitchen. She was setting up a beer pong table and Bucky sighed a little. She just seemed so young.

“Bucky!” She called, excited. A girl at her side giggled a little, and Bucky knew that meant Connie had been dishing on him to her friends. Wonderful. That probably meant she actually liked him and didn’t want just a quick screw.

“Want a drink?” Her friend offered, gesturing to the array of coolers full of beer and a few bottles of harder stuff on the counter.

“Oh, no thanks,” Bucky said, giving his most charming smile.

“You come to a party and don’t wanna drink?” Some guy was standing way too close, his whiskey breath hot on the side of Bucky’s neck, and Bucky fought a wince. He stepped away a little and the guy caught sight of his other side.

“Holy shit, you don’t have an arm!” He pointed out. Ah, the observant type.

“What?” Bucky gasped theatrically. “Oh my God, where’d it go? Has anyone seen it?”

Connie’s friend cracked up laughing and Connie scowled at the guy. “Ignore Gil,” she told Bucky. “He can’t hold his booze for shit.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, sweet thing,” Gil drawled out. “C’mon, lemme put you in a better mood.”

Connie shot Bucky a quick look, gauging his reaction. Bucky held in a sigh. Was he supposed to do some macho posturing now? Claim Connie as his own? That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t even into that kind of stuff before he’d gone to war. He’d gotten into bar fights when he first got back, sure, but he’d never felt the need to let his testosterone overflow like that. Most of his bar fights had to do with someone getting too close to him and then not backing off when he snapped at them.

“No thanks, Gil,” Connie finally said.

“Connnnnie,” Gil whined. “Connie, don’t leave me out to dry like that.”

“She said no,” Bucky said coldly. He didn’t want to spend the night playing bouncer, but it looked kind of inevitable with all the young, drunk college kids around. Bucky felt awkwardly out of place again, so much older than everyone else on top of being completely sober. Most of these kids weren’t much older than Tim.

“You think you’re a big tough guy?” Gil challenged. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Not really,” he admitted. “But big and tough enough.”

“Wanna prove it?” Gil sneered. “I’ll keep one arm behind my back so it’s fair.”

“Oh, trust me, pal, it wouldn’t be fair for you even if you fought with both hands and picked up an extra along the way.” Bucky could feel his blood going hot all over, despite the deep breaths he was taking to try to stay calm. He’d never had much tolerance for assholes.

“Cool it, _Gilmore_ ,” Connie said sharply, stepping between them. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky told her. “I’m—I think I should go.”

“You just got here,” Connie’s friend said, pulling out one of those pretty-girl pouts. Bucky felt that itch under his skin that meant he was going to lose it if he stayed much longer.

“I gotta go,” he said more urgently.

“You don’t have to—Gil should go,” Connie said, putting her hand on his arm. Bucky had to suck in a breath to make sure he didn’t shake her off.

“Look, I…I can’t—there’s so many people, and it’s just,” he broke off, panting a little. He couldn’t catch his breath. Shit. He couldn’t have a panic attack, not here, not around these people. He didn’t even know them.

“Are you okay?” Connie asked. Bucky shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded. He was trying to take deep breaths, but they weren’t coming.

“Sorry,” he choked out, and then fled. Running out of the house actually helped, not just because of the breeze and sudden quiet of being outside but also because his body knew to breathe when he was running.

Tears were squeezing out of the corners of his eyes from his panic and his effort to breathe. He kept running all the way home and rushed up the stairs, chest heaving even though it was only four blocks. He threw himself down on the ground and clutched his hair with his hand, taking shuddering, gasping breaths.

It took almost twenty minutes to calm himself down, and by the time he was breathing normally again, Bucky’s limbs were weak and trembling. He was mortified. Connie probably thought he was a total freak. He hadn’t really been sure he wanted anything to happen with Connie, but still. She was the closest thing he had to a friend these days, and now he’d ruined that, too.

Bucky climbed up onto his bed and curled into the fetal position. He felt like everything was falling apart. He’d been fine for the last three years. He hadn’t been happy, sure, but he wasn’t _un_ happy, either. And now he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t just not happy, he was _miserable_.

The only thing he could think of that had changed was Steve and the kids. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d been forced into their lives in the first place and then fell in love with the whole family, only to have it all go to shit on him.

Bucky shuddered and swiped his hand over his face. He couldn’t keep doing this. It had been weeks since he’d come back, and he’d felt sorry for himself and missed Steve and the kids every day. He’d never get over it if he kept this up. As he sat up, his eyes caught on something white on his desk.

Libby’s letter.

If Bucky had seen it while he was angry, he probably would’ve ripped it up. But he was full of self-loathing he figured it was the best time to read it. She was probably denouncing him anyway. He took a deep breath and opened the letter. He had to hold the envelope in his mouth to open it with his hand, but he was used to it by now.

_Dear Bucky,_  
_I got your address from Nick. He’s kept us updated on you the whole time you’ve been gone. Did you forget he was our caseworker, too? Don’t be mad at him. We were worried you were dead until he told us. I’m really mad at you for leaving and never coming back. Becca says you thought you needed to for us, but Becca always makes excuses for you. I wrote to you every week while you were in the Army and then you finally came home and took off again. I’m older now so I kind of understand why. I know you had a hard time coming home and I wish we could’ve known what to do for you, but Nick says you’re doing better now. Why haven’t you come to see us? You missed my 18th birthday. I was super mad at you for that, and kind of sad. Now I’m just sad that you think you have to stay away. We miss you. Please come home._  
_Love,_  
_Libby_  
_P.S. You owe me 50 bucks for that tooth I lost while you were in Afghanistan and I never got tooth fairy money for. I’m charging interest, so you better hurry and cough it up before you get further in the hole._

Bucky was crying. Maybe he should have been embarrassed by that; he didn’t know if he should, and he didn’t really care. He read the letter four more times before he fell asleep, the letter still in his hand. 


	8. Chapter 8

It had been over a week since Bucky read Libby’s letter, and he still hadn’t done anything about it. At least twice every day since, he’d picked up his phone, but he always chickened out. He had Libby’s words right there, telling him she wanted to hear from him, but he’d gone five years telling himself they were better off without him. It wasn’t just a switch he could flip.

He had a week before classes started. He wasn’t as miserable as he’d been when he first got back. He didn’t even think of Steve every day. Part of that was sheer determination, sure, but he took whatever victories he could find.

Luckily, Connie didn’t hate him. But her cheerful smiles were a little muted, and he’d seen pity in her eyes when she looked at him. There was no way he could tolerate that. He saw her at work, but they stuck to work topics.

Bucky went back to his room one day after going out to buy notebooks and pens (he didn’t take notes on the computer for obvious reasons; it was much faster to write than to type one-handed) to find a bunch of the other students had come back. He knew his inward groan of disappointment was rude, but he almost couldn’t help himself. He really hated sharing a bathroom, especially after being spoiled all summer in Austria.

“Hey, Barnes!” A kid behind him called out. Bucky sighed very quietly and turned around. It was a guy named Mark who was about twenty-one. “There were some kids looking for you earlier.”

Bucky wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Some kids?”

“Yeah, like, a ton of them,” Mark said, and Bucky felt his stomach lurch a little.

“Eleven!” Another guy, Jake, called out. Bucky couldn’t help the little gasp that came out of his mouth, and then both guys looked concerned.

“You on the run from some kind of baby mob?” Mark joked.

“They _did_ sound kinda pissed,” Jake admitted. “Said they needed to talk to you.”

“Did they give you any names?” Bucky asked. Maybe it was a coincidence. It was possible. Coincidences could happen.

“There was a little redhead girl they kept calling Nat,” Mark said. “And she looked ready to kick somebody’s ass.”

“I bet,” Bucky murmured. “Uh, thanks. How long ago were they here?”

“Probably two hours or so. They stuck around for a while. Said they weren’t leaving until you got back. But Fury took ‘em up to his office and then they left after that.”

Bucky’s heart was pounding. His instincts were screaming at him to go find the kids. It wouldn’t be that hard to find out where the Starks had lived before they died; they were high society people, after all. But he’d have to see Steve. And just because he’d been ignoring everything for weeks didn’t mean he’d just forgotten everything that happened.

Steve’s little gasp as he came flashed through Bucky’s mind and he felt his face get hot. He could not face Steve. But being back in New York meant he’d get back to work, right? Surely Bucky could go during the day and Steve wouldn’t be there. Would he? Bucky didn’t even know if he worked at an office or if he worked from home year-round. It hadn’t come up.

Fuck that. Bucky was an _adult_. He could handle going through Steve to see the kids. He loved those kids and they loved him and Steve wouldn’t keep them apart. So he and Steve had had sex. What was the big deal? So what if Steve curling around him as he slept had made him feel safe and he’d slept a solid seven hours? So what if his determination to graduate this year now included a tiny desire to make Steve proud?

Shit.

Bucky couldn’t think of a good solution, so he employed his usual problem-solving mode: he ignored it. He checked his bank account, because he’d been spoiled all summer with satiny sheets and now the cotton on his dorm bed felt horribly scratchy and irritating. He could probably afford some softer ones. Maybe.

He frowned when he looked at his balance. That was a lot more money than he should have. He clicked through to see his activity and saw a new direct deposit transaction—from Steve. The last paycheck he would’ve gotten. But he’d left. Maybe Steve had already set up all the payments to go automatically? Surely Steve wasn’t going to try to pay him for work he hadn’t done.

And then a worse thought occurred to him. It was probably apology money. Hush money. Don’t-come-back money. A last “sorry we slept together but you thought it would be more” deposit. Bucky felt sick to his stomach. He knew rich people could afford this kind of thing, but he’d never experienced it. He slammed his laptop closed.

There was that conundrum solved. He wasn’t going to just sit back and take this. He was going to march straight over there and give Steve a piece of his mind. But first he had to go to work. Unlike _some_ people, he believed in working for his money.

  
“Hey, are you alright?” Connie asked as he wiped sweat off an elliptical with more force than was strictly necessary.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said automatically. Connie wrinkled her brow.

“Really?” She asked skeptically. “Because you’ve wiped down that elliptical three times in the last two hours.”

Bucky blinked. He didn’t realize that. “Well, people keep using it,” he tried to defend himself feebly. Connie narrowed her eyes and he sighed, standing up and giving up on accosting the poor elliptical.

“Just some stuff going on,” he admitted. “Not a big deal.”

Connie looked at him for a minute. “You can talk to me, if you want.” She watched the way his face flushed and held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “I get that you don’t want to date me. And I was a little bummed at first, because I think you’re pretty great. But we can still be friends, Bucky.”

Bucky looked down at his shoes. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I just…don’t really know how to be a very good friend these days.” He knew eleven kids who would agree. Plus he’d run away from Sam and Maria, too, and he and Steve had been friends. Not to mention what a terrible brother he’d been.

“Well,” Connie said, smiling, “you start with sharing. Here, I’ll go first: I have two brothers and a sister. Now your turn.”

Bucky swallowed hard. Connie had no way of knowing siblings would be a touchy subject for him. He blew out a breath. “I have three sisters.” He managed to keep his voice pretty even as he said it.

She cooed a little. “I bet you’re so sweet to them.”

Bucky felt like he was going to break apart. Or throw up, maybe. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because someone came out of the men’s room complaining that someone else had done just that. Bucky had never been grateful to clean up another person’s vomit before.

  
Of course Nick Fury was waiting outside his door when he got back to his dorm. Bucky sighed a little and Fury smirked.

“Well, I’m a little hurt to get that kind of reception.”

Bucky unlocked the door and waved him in. “After you,” he said, only a little sarcastically. Fury looked at him closely and Bucky hunched his shoulders. Fury had been the case worker assigned to Bucky and his sisters after their parents died, and Bucky just knew sometimes Fury looked at him and saw the angry seventeen-year-old who ran away from three different foster homes before he aged out and joined the Army.  
  
“So you had some visitors today,” Fury said, raising an eyebrow. “And they weren’t very happy with you.”

Bucky ran his hand over his face. “Sorry.”

“Would you like to hear what they had to say?”

“I don’t know, do I?” Bucky shot back. “I’m sure it wasn’t great.”

“Well, Thor would like you to know the tadpoles hatched, Jacques said English is not stupid, Natasha was _quite_ vocal about not having anyone left to dance with, and Tim said you broke your promise about his birthday.” Fury ticked them off on this fingers as he relayed their messages. Bucky’s heart dropped to his stomach. He’d been ignoring everything so well, doing such a good job of not thinking about them, that he’d forgotten Tim’s birthday.

He knew there was no way on Earth Steve would kick Tim out, so his promise had been strictly to make Tim feel better. But Bucky still felt shitty about missing his birthday. That was two important 18th birthdays he’d skipped out on. He had to hold his breath for a second to keep himself from breaking down.

“James,” Fury said gently, and Bucky took a hitched breath. “What happened?”

Bucky shrugged. “Personal issues,” he said. Fury examined him. He knew about Bucky’s sexuality, and it had never been a problem, but it probably meant he had an idea what _personal issues_ meant.

“Did you fall in love with him?” Fury asked. Part of Bucky wanted to laugh at the idea of Nick Fury, who always seemed so gruff, grizzled and eye-patched, sitting here on Bucky’s bed asking about his feelings like they were at a sleepover. But most of Bucky was trying to quell the hot tears filling up his eyes.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Bucky protested with a wet little chuckle.

“But something happened with Rogers?”

“It wasn’t professional,” Bucky said quickly. “I know that. I—I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m not suggesting anything was one-sided,” Fury responded, and Bucky covered his eyes with his hand. “But what went wrong?”

“Well, we umm…” Bucky blew out a breath. “But St—the Captain didn’t want anything more…and then it got uncomfortable. And then it was making things hard on the kids. We were—I didn’t want to make anything harder on those kids, and I thought, you know, it was close enough to the end of the summer that it wouldn’t be too bad if I just left. He wanted me to go, that was obvious, so. I did.”

Fury didn’t say anything for a long time and Bucky bit his lip hard to keep it together. This was so humiliating. He’d made it through war, being taken prisoner, and losing an arm, but he was sitting here in tears over a little crush.

“I’ve known Steve for a long time,” Fury started slowly. “I can’t say that sounds much like the man I know.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Bucky said, a little harshly. “That’s what happened.”

Fury nodded. “Okay.”

Bucky huffed. “What? What’s that okay mean?”

Fury hesitated for a beat. “You have a tendency to bow out of situations without facing them.”

“I had to leave my sisters before I hurt them,” Bucky snarled.

Fury help up his hands. “I think you did the right thing by removing yourself when you knew you were on the verge of losing control, and you definitely did the right thing by deciding to clean up your life. But you didn’t have to cut all ties with your sisters. You left and you never went back, not even now when you’re mostly stable. And you didn’t get help. You quit drinking, but you didn’t go to a therapist. You read an article on the internet about anger management and you think that’s enough. And I don’t think I’m wrong in believing you purposefully work graveyard shifts because you’re still not sleeping.”

Bucky stood up fast, knocking over his chair in the process. “Steve came onto _me_ and then completely shut me out and ignored me. And I did what I had to for those kids _and_ for my sisters. But everything’s still always my fault, huh?”

“No, Barnes, it’s not, and that’s my point,” Fury interrupted. “If that’s what happened with Steve, I understand why you’re so upset and I think you had a right to an explanation. But you left without getting an explanation because you thought, once again, the best thing to do would be run, because you thought _you_ were the problem, and you know what? Blaming yourself for everything is its own type of selfishness.”

“Well, thank you, Nick, for this wonderful pep talk,” Bucky spat angrily. “Next time I get sick I’ll make sure to ask you to come kick me while I’m down.”

“At least you’d be asking for _some_ thing,” Fury muttered as he stood up. He paused just before he left the room. “Your sisters are worried about you, those kids are worried about you, and I’m worried about you. People care about you, Barnes, and you need to start learning how to accept that in a way that isn’t completely destructive.”

He closed the door behind him, didn’t slam it like Bucky wanted to, and left Bucky sitting there in the silence, his blood pounding in his ears. The worst thing was he knew Nick was right about most of it, if not all. He still could have called his sisters, even if he couldn’t live with them anymore. He could have gone to visit. He could go back now.

But the reason he hadn’t before was the same reason he still hadn’t called after reading Libby’s letter—he was a coward. He’d left Becca to be a parent to their two younger sisters when she was still barely more than a child herself. When he thought of being in college now, when, as far as he knew, Becca hadn’t gone, he felt sick to his stomach. He told himself he was going to finish college and get a stable job so he could send money to the girls. But Nick was right.

He was selfish.

Bucky sat on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, gripping at his hair, for a long time. He didn’t even know how long. What about Sadie—was she in college now? Was Libby? Bucky had no doubt Becca did everything in her power to make sure they both went, with no regard to herself. He wanted to throw up. He should’ve been the one making the sacrifices. Becca wanted to be a doctor their whole lives. And because he’d run away, she’d probably put that up on the shelf.

He unlocked his phone and punched in the numbers he still knew by heart. He stared at his phone, shaking finger hovering over the call button, and almost chickened out yet again. _Stop being a coward for once in your life_ , he growled at himself, and slammed his finger down.

Bucky started to panic. What if it didn’t even ring? What if they didn’t have the landline anymore? What if the number was different? But it was ringing, at least.

“Hello?” Becca’s voice picked up after the fourth ring, and Bucky lost his voice. He felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach and knocked all the air out of him. He froze. “Hello?” Becca repeated, voice starting to tremble a little. “Bucky?”

“Becca,” Bucky gasped.

“Bucky, you called,” she said, already crying. “I thought you never would.”

“How did you know it was me?” He pushed past the lump in his throat.

Becca sniffed. “We never use the landline anymore. We only kept it in case you tried to call.”

“Becks,” Bucky choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, you better be,” Becca scolded. “Are you going to come home?”

 _Home_. Bucky felt tears slipping down his cheeks. “You want me to?”

“Shut the fuck up, James Buchanan Barnes. Don’t you dare think for a second we don’t want you to come home.” There was anger laced through her voice now. “We kept the same goddamn phone number for five years for you. We keep the spare key in the same place. I know Libby wrote you that letter. We miss you.”

Bucky was openly crying now. “But Becks, after what I did to yo—”

“You _didn’t_ do anything to me, Buck,” Becca cut him off. “You stopped yourself. And it’s not like I’m thrilled you even almost did it. But everything was so fucked back then. _Everything_. Nick said you’re better now.”

Bucky licked his lips. “I’m better than I was, but I’m not…I wouldn’t say I’m better like I’m fixed.”

“Fixed?” Becca echoed. “You’re not a watch, Bucky. Please come home. Please.”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed. “I will. I’ll come tomorrow. But you gotta make sure Sadie and Libby are okay with it, too.”

“They are,” Becca assured him immediately.

“No, Becca, you gotta ask ‘em. And it has to be genuine. I don’t want them saying yes because they can tell you want them to or because they think they have to.”

“Fine,” Becca relented. “Sadie! Libs! Come here!” She bellowed, and Bucky let out a half-laugh, half-sob at how familiar it was for her to scream out from the phone. He could picture her, in her pajamas because of the late our, contacts out and glasses on, hair frizzy from the day, tapping her foot impatiently while she waited.

“Is it Bucky?” He heard Libby say frantically.

“Bucky?” Sadie added.

“He has to hear you guys say you actually want him to come home. And you have to _really_ mean it.”

“Of course we do,” Sadie said, voice thick. “We miss you, Buck.”

“Did you read my letter?” Libby asked accusingly. “I already said I want you to come home.”

Bucky was a mess. He was crying pretty hard, and if anyone else was there to see it, he’d be mortified. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll come over tomorrow.” A thought occurred to him. “Not forever, guys. I’m still in school.”

“You’re graduating at the end of this semester, aren’t you?” Becca asked. She didn’t sound angry or jealous.

“Jeez, how often do you guys talk to Nick?” Bucky muttered.

“Oh, excuse us for being worried our brother was dead,” Sadie shot back.

“Sadie!” Libby squealed. Their voices were close enough that he could picture them gathered around the phone, heads pressed together, and it made his chest ache. “Please come see us, Bucky, _please_.”

“I will,” Bucky promised, cradling the phone against his shoulder so he could swipe at his running nose. “I have to work in the morning and there’s something I have to do in the afternoon before I come, but I’ll come over. I promise.”

They didn’t talk for much longer; there was so much to say, it seemed insurmountable, and none of them knew _what_ to say. Bucky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, for a long time, unable to sleep. He was going to see his little sisters tomorrow. After five years, he was finally going to see his girls again.

But he was going to see Steve first, to confront him about the money. Now that he was a little calmer, he realized Steve wasn’t the kind of guy to pay hush money. It wasn’t a thanks-for-the-sex-but-don’t-talk check; it was, most likely, born of Steve’s pity. He knew Bucky was working to pay for school. Bucky wasn’t actually sure which made him feel worse.

But he didn’t need Steve’s pity. He didn’t _want_ Steve’s pity. Just because Steve didn’t feel the same way Bucky did didn’t mean Bucky needed his charity. So he’d give Steve his money back. He’d say a real goodbye to the kids. And he’d see his sisters. He’d get his life back on track.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some canon-typical violence.

Bucky squared his shoulders and looked at the giant mansion in front of him. This was where Steve and the kids lived in New York. He’d had to take a cab because there wasn’t even a train stop anywhere close. Bucky didn’t even think this counted as the city anymore. There were trees and shrubs and…well, _empty land_ all around. It didn’t look too different from the Austria estate, really, but it sure as hell looked different from the New York Bucky knew.

He knocked firmly. No use putting this off. He needed to speak his piece and go see his sisters. He couldn’t tell if his stomach was lurching at the thought of seeing Steve or facing his sisters. Probably both.

The door opened and Jarvis’s eyes widened when he saw Bucky. “Mr. Barnes.”

“Hi,” Bucky said. “Can I talk to Steve?”

Jarvis glanced over his shoulder. “Captain Rogers is…” He hesitated. “Quite frankly, Mr. Barnes, Captain Rogers is an utter mess at the moment.”

Bucky wasn’t expecting that. “What? What do you mean?”

Jarvis lowered his voice. “I don’t think he’s slept in days. I believe he’s come to a breakthrough in Agent Carter’s death, but—”

“Who are you talking to?” Natasha cut Jarvis off. She leaned around his legs and saw Bucky. Bucky couldn’t be sure what his face was doing, but he had a feeling it was something between ‘sheepish’ and ‘embarrassed’, since that was how he felt.

Natasha assessed him coolly. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Steve,” Bucky said. A little anger flashed over Natasha’s face.

“Why are you just standing out there then?” She challenged.

“Well, if it’s a bad time…”

“Come on,” Natasha said, somehow making it sound like more of a dare than an invitation. Bucky hesitated, glancing at Jarvis, but Jarvis just shrugged.

“I’ll go get Steve,” Natasha offered, eyes hard, and she set off before Bucky could stop her. The house was quiet, which seemed strange until Bucky realized the older kids must be off doing after school activities. Clint came around a corner just then, probably looking for Natasha, and stopped when he saw Bucky.

“Hi,” he said cautiously.

“Hi,” Bucky answered. “How you doing, bud?”

“Are you going to live with us again?” Clint asked. Bucky winced.

“No, I have to go to school now,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. He did have school. There was a little more to it, sure, but he wasn’t _lying_ , necessarily.

“Tasha said you left ‘cause you’re a butthead.”

Well, that about covered the ‘more to it’ part.

Bucky didn’t really know how to respond to that. “Uh,” he started. “Well, it’s sort of grown-up stuff.”

Clint’s face changed from cautiously open to a deep scowl. “That’s what grown-ups _always_ say when they don’t wanna tell you.”

“Clint, I—”

“Bucky?”

Bucky whirled around and came face-to-face with Steve. Jarvis wasn’t kidding—Steve looked _rough_. He obviously hadn’t shaved in a while, and he had dark circles under his eyes that were almost a match for Bucky’s.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked.

“I need to talk to you,” Bucky said firmly. He looked down at Clint. “Can I go talk to Steve and then talk to you afterward?”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to you,” Clint pointed out.

“You don’t have to,” Bucky reassured him. “But if you want to, I’ll look for you. Natasha can come talk, too, if she wants.”

“You can come in my office,” Steve said, ushering him down the hall. Steve’s office was a mess. There were papers and files everywhere; a stack of plates suggested Steve had been eating while working, and there were at least four mugs scattered throughout the room.

“Christ, you been living in here?” Bucky said without thinking. It was hard to be around Steve and not slip into familiarity.

Steve rubbed at his eyes. “I know what happened to Peggy.” He sounded dazed.

“You what?” Bucky asked.

“It was orchestrated,” Steve told him, still sounding far away, like he didn’t even realize he was talking out loud. “She’d discovered Pierce was selling national secrets. And he had her killed. I’ve got proof. I’ve got him. I’ve already scheduled a meeting with the Security Council to show them what I’ve found.”

Bucky stared. This was definitely not what he was expecting when he came here. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t just ignore everything Steve had just told him—he’d just found out his wife had been _murdered_ by their boss—but he really wasn’t in a position to be comforting Steve, either.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked instead. Sam was certainly more qualified to handle this than he was. At least Sam had known Peggy.

“He doesn’t live with us,” Steve answered. He finally blinked a few times and focused his eyes on Bucky. “Uh. In New York. He—he lives in Washington, D.C.”

“Oh.”

They were both quiet for a beat. An awkward beat. “Um, did you want to talk to me about something?” Steve asked, rubbing his forehead.

Bucky swallowed hard. “Well. I, uh. I—I didn’t work the last month.” Steve frowned a little, confused. “But you paid me.” It wasn’t the angry, strong statement Bucky had practiced in his head on the way over, but Steve threw him off with the Peggy situation.

“Oh.” Steve’s face went red. “Yeah. Well, I…I know you’re in school. You took the job to help pay for school. I didn’t want you to not have enough.”

Bucky felt himself bristling. “I’m an adult,” he said harshly. “I don’t need you trying to parent me, too.”

Steve flinched a little. “I was trying to be your boss, actually,” he said, gamely trying to sound sarcastic and only missing the mark a little.

“I don’t need your charity,” Bucky insisted.

“Bucky, don’t be stubborn,” Steve started.

“Oh, _you_ want to talk to _me_ about being stubborn?” Bucky shot back. “That is rich.”

Steve’s chin was jutting out angrily and his eyes were blazing. “I’m not the one who left,” he pointed out.

“No, you’re just the one who completely stopped talking to me and refused to even be in the same room together.”

The room was silent for a minute, both of them furious with the other, neither willing to make the first move to say anything more. Finally Bucky took a step back and pulled the wad of cash he'd gotten from the ATM out of his pocket.

“I’m not taking your money.”

He laid the money on Steve’s desk and Steve made an angry, impatient sound.

“Bucky, you’re being ridiculous,” he said. “I just wanted to help—”

“I never asked for your help—”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so—”

“You feel better about yourself if you pay me after you went slumming it?” Bucky finally shouted. Steve’s mouth snapped closed.

“What?”

“Mr. Big Shot, with your two mansions and all your money. You see poor Bucky Barnes with no arm, charity case foster kid with the PTSD and you want to throw your money at him to feel good about yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Steve spat. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Wonder why,” Bucky fired back.

Steve slammed a fist down on his desk. “Is this your reaction to every problem? Either run or just attack everyone?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to hiss, “Fuck you.”

“You ever think it’s a little hard to get close to someone who’s always so hostile?”

“You ever think of taking your own words to heart?”

Before either of them could say anything else, a bullet shattered the window and got so close to Steve’s face it left a bloody graze across his cheek.

“What the hell?” Steve gasped as they both dropped to the ground.

Bucky popped a head up around the bookshelf he was crouching behind to check out the sightlines. “Sniper,” he said, a little unnecessarily. Bucky was a short crawl from the door. Steve was behind the desk and getting around the desk to the door would require going directly in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Christ, who designed this room?

“Go, get out of here,” Steve ordered.

“No, not without you,” Bucky said automatically.

“Bucky, the kids,” Steve said urgently.

“Shut up for a second,” Bucky requested, trying to think. There was a mug on the shelf beside his head, and he picked it up and hurled it toward the window. It exploded into about a million ceramic shards.

“Now!” He yelled at Steve. “While they’re recalculating.”

Steve crouched low and ran, and they both made it to the door before another bullet tore through the room and embedded itself in the wall on the other side of the room.

“Shit,” Steve breathed. “It’s got to be Pierce.” He stood up determinedly. “Natasha? Jarvis? Guys?”

“What time are the other kids getting home?” Bucky asked, hustling Steve through the entryway and its eight million windows. God, this house. You’d think having all that money would make you more paranoid so you’d design a more secure home. Steve blinked a few times. He was probably dead on his feet, running on no sleep. This was not a good time for him to get attacked.

Great for the attackers, though.

“Forty minutes,” Steve said, glancing at his watch with his mouth in a hard line.

“Are they safe at school?” Bucky asked tightly. “Pierce knows about them.”

Steve’s breathing was picking up fast. “Tim, Gabe, and Rhodey are all outside for football practice,” he said. “Tony and Bruce are in the school doing science club. Jacques and Jim are already on the bus home. Everyone else is here.”

Bucky swore. He couldn’t decide who he was most worried about—the boys outside for sports were maybe the most vulnerable, but Jacques and Jim on the bus weren’t in a great place, either, and would get home sooner. The kids here with them were definitely the safest.

“Okay, what’s your protocol for attack?” Bucky asked.

“Panic room in the basement,” Steve told him. “Jarvis takes the kids. Armory around the corner for us. I’ll tell the older kids to go to Peggy’s cousin Sharon. She’s CIA. She can protect them if it comes to that.”

Steve pulled out his phone while they headed down the stairs. Hugging close to the walls and avoiding the windows was making everything slower. Any awkwardness between them was frozen for the time being, both because of their concern for the kids and because they were falling back on their training.

“Tim, we have a situation at home. You need to gather the other kids and go to Sharon’s. She’ll bring you home when we’re clear.” Steve hung up and swore. “He might not check his messages after practice.” He dialed again and called Tony, giving him the same instructions. “No, Tony, it’s okay,” Steve said firmly, countering some argument from Tony. “We are going to be fine and your job is to make sure you guys are safe at Sharon’s, do you understand?”

Steve sighed as he hung up, already dialing again. “Jacques, you and Jim need to stay on the bus and go to Sharon’s house, okay? The high school kids will meet you there. No, Jacques, you need to listen to me. Go to Sharon’s and do not come home until I call Sharon and give her the all-clear.”

He hung up and rubbed his eyes. “Why do these kids think I’m going to let them fight a battle?” He asked wearily.

Bucky snorted. “Maybe because you’ve spent years training them.”

Steve dialed his phone again. “Sharon, it’s Steve. We’ve got a sniper here. The younger kids are going in the panic room but I’ve got the high school and middle schoolers coming to you.” He listened for a second. “Yeah,” he said grimly. “It’s about Peggy.”

They got down the stairs and saw Jarvis herding the kids into the panic room. As soon as Thor saw them, he stood up taller. “Steve, I can fight,” he said immediately.

“So can I!” Monty added.

“None of you are fighting,” Steve told them. “You’re just kids.”

“But we know how!” Natasha protested. “You taught us.”

“I taught you in case something happens and I’m not there to make sure you’re safe,” Steve argued. “I’m here, and Bucky’s here, and Jarvis is here, and we are not going to let anything happen to you.”

Natasha gave Bucky a wary look, but didn’t say anything.

“Besides,” Bucky added. “It looks like we’ve just got a sniper. We don’t need an army against one sniper.”

“I can shoot him with an arrow!” Clint suggested. “I have really good aim.”

“You do have really good aim,” Steve agreed. “But you’re going in the panic room with Jarvis and everyone else. Bucky and I will handle this.”

“Come with me, please,” Jarvis instructed. “There are granola bars in the panic room.”

“The gross kind with seeds in them?” Monty asked.

“No, the chocolate chip kind that Captain Rogers thinks are terrible for you and may give you cancer,” Jarvis told him. Monty fist-pumped. Steve checked the heavy door to the panic room and Jarvis gave him a serious, reassuring nod. Steve squared his shoulders and led Bucky to the armory.

“Do you really believe there’s only one guy?” Steve asked as they filled magazines.

“Probably not,” Bucky admitted. “Pierce is a powerful guy involved in some kind of corruption. He’s going to want to make sure you’re dead.”

Steve’s mouth was a thin line. “I’m going to kill him. He’s not going to hurt my family again.”

Bucky highly doubted that Pierce himself would come to the property, but he didn’t say anything about that. “Where’s the highest vantage point in the house?”

“Clint’s room,” Steve said immediately. “There’s a turret up there he likes to slip into.”

Bucky thought that was a little weird but kept his opinion to himself. As far as he was concerned, these kids could do whatever they needed to feel better about life. He groaned a little. “Great, so we gotta go back up the stairs. With all the windows.”

Steve shook his head. “We can climb up the laundry chute.”

“How are we going to do that?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“There’s a rope inside for this kind of thing.”

Bucky shook his head a little. Steve was paranoid as shit, that was for sure, but at least it was helpful right now. “You go first,” he said. “I’ll be slower.”

Steve paused, looking at Bucky’s left shoulder. “Can you climb a rope?”

“It’ll be mostly legs,” Bucky informed him. “But I’ve got great legs.” He didn’t even think before letting the second part slip out, all flirtatious bravado. Steve’s eyes darted down to Bucky’s legs for a second, and then he focused on the wall in front of them. Bucky cursed himself internally. This was bad enough without adding awkwardness over their weird tryst.

The laundry chute was a tight squeeze, and climbing the rope with one arm was slow, grueling work. Bucky spent the time alternating between freaking out about the tight space and lack of lights, taking deep breaths and letting the burn of his muscles keep him tethered to the present, and freaking out about not being able to pull the gun from his back to cover Steve if someone popped out at the top of the chute.

By the time Bucky got to the top, Steve had swept the area and made sure it was clear. He grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him up over the ledge and Bucky sat panting for a minute, half from the exertion and half from the adrenaline pounding through his body. Claustrophobia was another fun side effect of being held prisoner.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, concerned, and Bucky waved him off. Once he could get a full breath, Bucky edged over to the window. It wasn’t hard to see where the sniper must be—there were a few massive trees with perfect sightlines to the house, and especially Steve’s office. A tree-stand wouldn’t be hard to set up.

“Binoculars?” Bucky requested. Steve handed them over and Bucky focused on the trees. He found the tree-stand, but no sniper. “Must have set up the stand last night,” Bucky murmured, mostly to himself. “Waited all day. But why wait? Weren’t you in the office all day?”

“I had the shades drawn,” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head. “Shitty sniper if that stops ‘em, especially if you had the lights on inside. Maybe Pierce wanted visual confirmation of a hit.” Bucky kept scanning the property, but he couldn’t see the sniper anywhere. That didn’t bode well. “I see his nest, but not him,” he told Steve grimly. “He’s probably looking for a way into the house right now.”

“Should we go back down the chute?” Steve didn’t sound enthusiastic about the prospect. Bucky considered it—sure, the sniper’s nest was empty, but there could be more in other places. It was the best vantage point, but backup could have taken a less direct position and the goddamn house was all windows.

But Bucky honestly wasn’t sure he could handle another trip in that laundry chute. And if they stuck to the walls, they’d probably be okay from any less advantageous positions. He was about to tell Steve when he saw movement. It was the sniper, creeping back to his nest.

Bucky pulled the rifle from his back. Steve’s eyes went wide and he took the binoculars while Bucky found a good position. “Shoot to wound or kill?” Bucky asked.

“Kill,” Steve answered tightly. Then he gave Bucky a closer look. “Is that something you’re comfortable with?”

Bucky snorted. Honestly, he did not want to kill anyone ever again. He’d done it a lot—hands were stained with blood, dripping, overflowing, because he’d killed so many people—and he’d never enjoyed it.

But this person was working with someone who was selling secrets and, when caught, had killed a hardworking, kick-ass woman to cover his tracks. That sniper could have been the same person who killed Steve’s wife, ruined Steve’s life, ruined the kids’ lives. Again.

And then, of course, there was the fact that this sniper almost killed Steve. Bucky’s feelings for Steve were a confusing jumble, but what he felt when he thought of Steve dead was not confusing at all. His chest was burning with fury. They would have killed Steve and then left those kids with no one. _Again_. If, of course, they even left the kids _alive_.

Bucky didn’t even answer Steve as he started lining up the shot. It was strange, without his left arm there to balance things, and he had to grab Steve’s hand and have him steady the gun, but Bucky’s body mostly went into muscle-memory mode. He adjusted the scope easily, and his thoughts died down until his mind went clear.

His breathing slowed and his heart calmed down. This was something he was good at. Always had been. He had a perfect head shot. He took a breath and let it out slowly, and then squeezed the trigger and watched the man drop. Perfect.

“Hit,” he announced, voice devoid of all emotion.

Steve stared at him as he kept scanning the area. He didn’t believe there was no one else there. Pierce wasn’t sloppy enough for that. If nothing else, there would probably be some kind of cleanup crew. But wherever reinforcements were, Bucky couldn’t see them. Maybe they weren’t there yet.

“Bucky?” Steve asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” Bucky assured him, still in that flat tone.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Steve muttered. “Should I give the kids the all-clear?”

Bucky couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach. Something wasn’t right. He could see on Steve’s face he felt the same way—uneasy, like they’d missed something. Bucky shook his head and Steve nodded his agreement.

“Let’s go check the panic room,” Bucky suggested. They stayed close to the walls just to be safe, but nothing happened. They got down to the basement and Steve did some sort of specific pattern of knocks.

“Delta,” Steve called. Jarvis opened the door. It looked like the kids were doing homework. Monty scowled.

“Jarvis _lied_ ,” he pouted. “There were no chocolate chips in my granola bar.”

“There were M&Ms,” Jarvis said, exasperated. “Excuse me for not getting your sugar-filled chocolates correct.”

“I want you guys to stay put a little longer,” Steve said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Can’t we come patrol with you?” Thor implored.

“Not a chance,” Bucky said. Then he gulped a little. He may have overstepped. It just felt normal, since he’d spent two months responsible for these kids.

“You got that right,” Steve said, and Bucky relaxed a little.

Suddenly, an alarm started blaring. Everyone jumped. “What is that?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve confessed. “That’s not the house alarm.”

“It’s Tony’s alarm!” Natasha said. “For his science experiments.”

“What does that mean?” Steve asked seriously.

“Tony made an alarm for the science room,” Clint explained. “So we can’t go in when he’s not here.”

“Teenage territorialism comes in handy,” Steve muttered. “Okay, back inside, all of you, quickly.”

“Which direction?” Bucky asked. Steve jerked a thumb and Bucky fell back, pulling a handgun from his waistband to cover the hallway. But the alarm came too late; black-clad bodies started spilling down the hall. Bucky dropped two before they realized he was standing there.

“Close the door!” He shouted at Steve, raising his gun again. He’d hit two; so far he counted five left. But they were fast. Steve growled, backing away from the door and drawing his own gun as Pierce’s people started opening fire. Bucky had to holster his gun so he could grab a handful of Steve’s shirt and haul him behind a side-table. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

Steve hit two more of the team, and Bucky got another two, but the last guy was pushing his way inside the panic room where the kids were gathered while Steve and Bucky were shooting.

“No!” Steve yelled, launching himself across the room as the guy raised his gun.

And then Jarvis smashed a silver platter over the man’s head. He fell, dazed, and Steve shot him. Granola bars were strewn across the floor. Jarvis stared down at the puddle of blood growing under the man with wide eyes.

“Jarvis,” Steve panted. “That was amazing.”

“Who the fuck carries granola bars on a silver platter?” Bucky asked.

“There is no need to scrimp, regardless of what's being served,” Jarvis said defensively. Steve shoved the man’s body out of the doorway.

“Close this door,” he ordered. “We’re going to check the rest of the house and make sure it’s clear. And then we’ll—” Steve gestured toward the kids. “Have a talk. And call your therapists.”

Steve and Bucky swept through the house, but there were no more members of the hit team. Tires crunching on gravel put them both on high alert just outside the front door, but Steve relaxed when he saw who it was.

“It’s Sharon,” he told Bucky. He raised a hand at Sharon, and her mouth moved, and then the kids popped up. They must have been crouching down, out of sight, and Bucky felt a little flame of respect for Sharon. She’d been keeping them safe, and that was enough for Bucky to trust her.

“What’s going on?” She asked as she jumped out of the car. “Why do you have blood on your shirt?”

“It was Pierce,” Steve told her. “He sent a team. The house is clear. There’s…a bunch of them inside.”

Sharon searched his face for a minute and then nodded and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call it in. We’ve been investigating the mole for two years. I’ll get a cleanup crew here. You’re going to have to turn over whatever evidence you’ve got, though.”

Steve sagged a little, adrenaline giving way to the exhaustion he had to be feeling. Bucky wanted to wrap an arm around his shoulders, support him, feel him close. But he couldn’t. The older kids spilled out of the car.

“Is everything already over?” Tim demanded. “We can’t help?”

“You’re kids,” Steve bellowed. “You’re not fighting!”

“What are we going to do about the bodies down there?” Bucky asked Steve lowly. “We can’t let the kids out of the panic room when they can see the dead bodies.”

“No, definitely not,” Steve agreed. “Sharon’s people will be here soon.”

“Uh, there’s one in the tree line, too,” Bucky told Sharon awkwardly. She raised an eyebrow.

“You guys were busy.”

The kids were heading toward the house, but Steve stopped them. “Not until Sharon’s people get here,” he said sternly, ignoring the way Tim and Gabe gave him twin looks of disappointment.

“You think you want this kind of excitement, but believe me when I say you really, really don’t,” Bucky said tiredly.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked, only slightly less accusing than Natasha had been. Bucky rubbed his eyes.

“I was here talking to Steve when the shit hit the fan.”

“You missed my birthday,” Tim pointed out. “You _promised_.”

The adrenaline was leaving Bucky, too, and he was starting to feel that shaky, empty feeling that came after a firefight. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I bailed on all of you.” He avoided looking at Steve when he said it.

“You have to go back to school now, anyway, don’t you?” Rhodey asked.

“I start next week,” Bucky confirmed. He almost felt like this wasn’t really happening. He literally had blood splatter on his shirt and was talking about classes next week.

“Will you come visit us?” Jacques asked.

“Will you come to my soccer games?” Jim added.

“Or _our_ football games,” Gabe cut in. The older kids seemed a little less inclined to hold a grudge.

“I—” Bucky chanced a glance at Steve, whose face was unreadable. “I’d like to,” he settled for. Tim gave him an unimpressed look at how noncommittal it was.

“Bucky and I are going to go talk,” Steve announced. Bucky’s stomach plummeted. Steve probably didn’t want him hanging around the kids when things were so awkward between them. He followed Steve up the front steps back into the house.

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What?” Bucky asked, taken aback. That wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you completely after we had sex,” Steve said, face going a little red but chin up defiantly. “I panicked. You’re really the first person I’ve had…actual feelings for since Peggy, and all the sudden it just felt…unfaithful.” He shrugged.

Bucky could only breathe for a minute. _Actual feelings_. Steve _did_ have feelings for him; it wasn’t just a one-night stand. Or wasn’t supposed to be.

“I’m sorry I took off,” Bucky said. “I just felt like it would be easier. I didn’t want to make things hard for you, and it was starting to affect the kids.”

“I know,” Steve said softly. “You’re a good guy.”

“No,” Bucky protested. “I also did it because I didn’t want to deal with what happened.”

Steve nodded. “Well, that’s why I froze you out for almost a week before you left. I didn’t want to deal with it, either.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what any of this meant. They were clearing the air. But for what? Like he could read Bucky’s thoughts, Steve took a step closer. Bucky felt his breath hitch a little, and he stopped breathing altogether when Steve circled Bucky’s waist with his arms.

“I really like you,” he said quietly. “And I would like to try again. If you’ll have me.”

Bucky’s arm went around Steve automatically, like having Steve so close and touching him could only elicit one response from him. Hope flared up in Steve’s eyes and he licked his lips. Bucky couldn’t help but stare at his lips, watch the way his tongue darted out.

But.

Bucky shook his head and stepped back. Steve let him go, but his shoulders slumped. “I—I don’t think I can do that,” Bucky said.

“I understand,” Steve murmured, looking down.

“No, Steve, it’s.” Bucky stopped and took a deep breath. “It’s not because I don’t want to or don’t forgive you or whatever you’re thinking. If you can forgive me, I forgive you.”

Steve looked up quickly. “Then what?” He asked. “Because I do, Buck, I forgive you. I’m not even totally sure there’s anything to forgive, because it was mostly my fault.”

Bucky shook his head again. It would be a waste of time to sit here and argue who was more to blame. That wasn’t the point of this. “I’m a mess, Steve,” he said softly. “My whole life is just me ignoring problems and hoping they’ll go away. I don’t think I can be with anyone right now, not even you. I need to get myself in order. I’m going to ask Fury for suggestions for a therapist. I—I have to get it together.”

Steve looked at him for a long moment, and then he smiled a little. “I understand,” he repeated, but this time he didn’t sound so dejected. “I think that’s really brave, Buck. Nick will have great suggestions, I’m sure.”

“How do you know him?” Bucky asked.

“Oh.” Steve shrugged. “He was my caseworker. My mom died when I was twelve.”

Bucky could only stare. All those things he’d said about Steve, about Steve being a spoiled rich kid…

He blew out a breath. “Well, I feel like an ass. I’m sorry. Again.”

Steve smiled softly. “It’s alright, Buck. I know how it all looks.” He gestured around the room, full of art pieces and fancy light fixtures. “I know how it feels to grow up angry at anyone with money. That’s why I wanted to give you that last paycheck. I have money now, and I want to do something good with it. Anyway, it was my fault you left before the summer was over.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he still wasn’t going to play that blame game. “Thank you,” he said.

“So you’ll take the money?” Steve asked. Bucky didn’t want to. He’d been doing fine without anybody’s help for a long time now, and his pride was screaming at him to say no.

Except he hadn’t been doing fine, had he? Wasn’t that the point of this new leaf he was trying to turn over?

Bucky sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll take it. For now.”

They stared at each other, unsure where to go from there. “Can I come see the kids sometimes?” Bucky asked.

“ _Yes_ , Bucky, of course,” Steve said quickly. “They love you. I’m not going to throw some tantrum because you won’t date me.”

Bucky huffed a little laugh. “Well, that’s a nice surprise,” he teased. Steve made a face and rolled his eyes. “Um…do you think you have things under control here?”

Steve’s face clouded a little, but he nodded. “You can go if you want.”

“I—it’s not that I don’t want to be here with you,” Bucky promised before his brain caught up to censor his words. “I mean.” He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, that probably doesn’t make things easier.”

Steve shrugged. “At least I know I’m not the only one feeling this way.”

“You’re not,” Bucky told him softly. “But I need to go. I, um.” He gave Steve a little smile, proud but kind of shy. “I’m going to see my sisters.”

Steve processed that for a second, and then he _beamed_ at Bucky. Oh, that did not make turning and walking out that door any easier. “Bucky, that’s amazing,” Steve said earnestly. “You’re talking to them again?”

Bucky nodded. “I called them yesterday. They want to see me.”

“Of course they do,” Steve said. “I’m so happy.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “I…I am, too.”

Steve’s smile went a little sad, but he kept it on his face. “Well. I feel like thank you doesn’t really cover this. You saved me and the kids today.”

“Anytime,” Bucky said seriously. “I really mean that.”

“I know you do,” Steve murmured. They looked at each other for another minute, and Bucky could see longing in Steve’s eyes that he knew had to be reflected in his own. He swallowed hard. He needed to get his head on straight before he jumped into anything. It would be better for everyone in the long run.

“I should go,” he said. “I need to change before I go see my sisters.”

“I don’t want you to have to go out like that,” Steve said, pained. “Why don’t you borrow a shirt?”

“Steve,” Bucky said softly, blinking hard.

“Not as anything, Bucky, I promise. Just a shirt.” Steve shrugged. “You look like you need to head to a police station in those clothes.”

Bucky relented, even though inhaling the scent of Steve on his shirt made his stomach ache. They had another awkward moment in front of the door, but then Steve put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky said.

“See you around,” Steve echoed, and then Bucky squared his shoulders and left.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky squared his shoulders, staring at the house across the street. He’d lived here, when he first got back, before he ran out. It wasn’t the house they’d grown up in—after their parents died, they hadn’t grown up in one specific house—but it was the house the girls had lived in for the biggest chunk of their lives, paying the rent first with Bucky’s salary he sent home to them and then Becca’s paychecks.

Some of the shingles on the roof needed replacing. Just one or two, and they weren’t in dire straits, but it made Bucky feel sick to his stomach. Who’d been taking care of things like that while he was gone? Becca was the type to do that herself; she’d look things up in a YouTube tutorial and have it expertly done in an hour. But Becca couldn’t go on the roof—she’d been afraid of heights since she fell out of a tree and broke her arm when she was eight. Sadie didn’t like getting her hands dirty, and Libby was too young.

He should have been here, all this time, fixing shingles and keeping up the paint job. He should’ve been working so Becca could go to college and not have to worry about raising girls barely younger than she was.

The door opened. Of course. He should have known Sadie would be watching out the window.

“Bucky?” Becca called, coming out to stand on the front porch, and Bucky sucked in a breath. He hadn’t seen his little sister in _five years_.

“Becks,” he croaked, knees feeling weak. She put her hands on her hips and he felt tears spring into his eyes at how familiar the look was.

“You coming in or what?” She challenged, her own voice sounding a little tight. “Don’t just stand there staring like a creep.”

Bucky blinked hard to clear his eyes, ordering himself to keep it together. If he fell apart, the girls would, too, and then where would they be? He crossed the street and walked up the steps slowly, almost afraid. He and Becca looked at each other for a minute, and he saw her frown a little as her eyes swept his face—probably disapproving of the hollows of his cheeks and the bags under his eyes.

But Bucky couldn’t hold back anymore; he wrapped his arm around Becca and squeezed her tight. He heard her breathing hitch a little, but she hugged back fiercely.

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re the one who said we always stick together.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Bucky!” Libby cried, running out. Bucky’s eyes bugged out a little at the sight of her. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been an awkward middle-schooler, a little chubby, with a terrible haircut. She was practically an adult now. Nice to see she’d grown into her huge head.

And then Sadie came out, too, and the transition from teenager to twenty-one-year-old was stark, too. Bucky kept blinking back tears, trying to keep it together. Sadie was bawling from the minute she saw him; she always had been the biggest crybaby.

Bucky was just better at hiding it than she was.

“We missed you,” Libby told him.

“I missed you guys, too,” he promised.

“Come on, let’s close the door,” Becca said, shooing everyone inside. “Tell us what you were doing in Austria.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted for a few reasons. First of all, the first thing that sprang to mind was _Steve_ , and that lit up an ache in Bucky’s chest and made him turn his head a little to breathe in Steve's scent on the collar of his shirt. But Bucky also felt sick with shame, because it must sound so glamorous to his sisters, three girls who’d never even left New York. Bucky didn’t deserve some big international trip, not besides the war zones he’d been to with the Army. Becca would’ve been a much better au pair than he’d been. And she probably wouldn’t have slept with her boss and ruined everything.

“I was an au pair,” he said, sitting on the creaky old couch.

“An au pair?” Libby repeated, eyes lighting up. She read a lot; no doubt she’d read some au pair book about a young woman having adventures.

“Fury made me do it to stay in my teaching program.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “There were eleven kids.”

“Someone has _eleven_ kids?” Sadie asked.

“Well, they’re all foster and adopted,” Bucky said. “Steve’s not really old enough for any of them to be his kids.”

“But you got to stay in your teaching program, right?” Becca checked. “Aren’t you graduating at the end of this semester?”

Bucky swallowed hard, guilt eating at his stomach. “Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “I’m—I’m so fucking sorry. I ran off and I got to go to college and I just left you guys and you didn’t get to—”

“Bucky, stop!” Becca ordered. Bucky snapped his mouth shut. “I graduated from college two months ago. Remember that publishing firm I worked for in the mail room? They really wanted me to go and helped me with the applications and everything. And they gave me a job as an editor now!” She was glowing with pride as she said it. “Sadie’s graduating next year in accounting.”

“And I’m starting next week!” Libby told him.

“But…how?” Bucky asked. He paid his tuition and housing through his GI Bill, and even with it he still had to work to have money to live on. Becca rolled her eyes at him.

“Grants, Bucky. Not having parents really helps out there.” She said it in the sarcastic tone Bucky remembered most about her.

“They just give you money?” He asked skeptically. “Don’t you have to pay that back?”

“Not grants. It’s to lift kids like us out of the gutter or something.” Becca waved a hand around carelessly.

There was a pause, and Bucky looked down at his knees, gathering himself, before he forced himself to look up. “I’m sorry I left,” he said.

“We know that,” Becca told him. “And we forgive you.”

Bucky could already tell she forgave him, and Libby, too, but he looked at Sadie. Sadie always seemed to feel things more deeply than the rest of them; she was more sensitive and got hurt more easily, and she held grudges.

“I’m still mad at you,” Sadie confirmed. He tried not to let his face fall. He deserved it. “But you know how you make it up to me?”

“How?” Bucky asked. “Anything you want.”

“Don’t run again,” she said fiercely, tears in her eyes. “I don’t really trust you that much, not like I used to when I was a kid, but I still want you around.”

“I promise,” he told her. “I’m—well, I’m not really good. But I’m better. And I’m gonna keep getting better. I will. I’m gonna go to a therapist.”

“Bucky, that’s so good,” Becca said. “You need it. You never went before? At all?”

He shrugged. “I thought if I went to a therapist it would prove I was crazy.”

“Well, you don’t need a therapist to tell you that,” Sadie murmured. Bucky rolled his watery eyes.

He stayed for hours, helping cook and clean up after dinner, looking at pictures, playing cards—just soaking up the feeling of hanging out with his little sisters. He missed them so much. He’d put so much time and energy into ignoring it all he hadn’t even realize how much he’d missed them.

When he finally left, plans firmly in place to come back in a few days to help Libby with back-to-school shopping, Becca followed him outside to the front porch.

“So. Something happen in Austria?” Becca didn’t waste time asking. Bucky blew out a breath.

“How could you tell?”

“You didn’t want to talk about it. You danced around Libby’s question about that Steve guy so many times I’m gonna start calling you _jitterbug_. What happened?”

Bucky hesitated. His sister could read him like a book, and they’d always been really close, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her about this. But she narrowed her eyes menacingly at him, and he knew she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I slept with him,” he said softly. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Bucky!” She scolded. “Your boss?”

“I know,” he groaned, shaking his head. “But he’s—he’s just so…” He trailed off, stomach clenching at the thought of Steve. Bucky was still wearing Steve’s shirt, could still smell Steve, hadn’t quite processed through everything that had just happened and the ease with which they fought together—working together seamlessly, like a team.

“You really like him, huh?” Becca asked. “You dating him or what?”

“Things are complicated,” Bucky sighed. Becca opened her mouth, no doubt to argue and push him to fight for love or some other crap she’d heard on TV, but Bucky cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about it, Becks.”

He must have sounded defeated and tired enough for her, because she pursed her lips. “Alright,” she said. She gave him a last hug. “We’ll see you in a few days.”

Bucky kept his word and asked Nick Fury for some therapist recommendations. His face burned as he asked, but Fury didn’t say _I told you so_ or _about time_ or anything like that. He looked seriously at Bucky and said,

“I’m proud of you, Barnes.”

But sitting in the therapist’s office made Bucky’s hand shake a little. What was he supposed to say to this random stranger? After their parents died, Bucky and his sisters had gone to some group sessions with a state therapist, but he’d mostly fumed silently and refused to participate. No doubt there was a file somewhere with a lot to say about that.

Where was he supposed to start? His parents’ car crash when he was a young teenager? Almost getting split up from his sisters a few times but Fury saving them? Joining the Army because he didn’t think he had any other options? Getting taken prisoner? Losing his arm? His raging alcoholism when he first got back? Running out on his sisters? The thing with Steve? Killing someone again just a week ago?

He was practically hyperventilating by the time the receptionist told him Dr. Xavier was ready for him. He walked into the room on shaking legs and blinked in surprise when he saw Dr. Xavier. He wasn’t expecting a wheelchair. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but…this wasn’t it.

“Hello, James,” Dr. Xavier said warmly. For some reason, the British accent made Bucky relax a little. Or maybe it was just the guy’s tone—he sounded soothing. “Have a seat, please.”

Bucky fidgeted a little as he sat down. He sort of thought there would be a couch, and there was, but they were just sitting at Dr. Xavier’s desk. His visions of lying on the couch talking about his childhood might have been wrong.

“So,” Dr. Xavier said. “Let’s talk about what you hope and expect to get out of this. Do you already have goals or should we come up with some together?”

Bucky gaped a little. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean. I sort of have goals. I—I just know my life’s a mess and I don’t really…deal with it.”

Dr. Xavier nodded thoughtfully. “Well, it certainly takes a great deal of courage to recognize that and take steps to change.”

“Really?” The word, with the incredulity Bucky felt, slipped out before Bucky could catch it. Dr. Xavier raised an eyebrow and Bucky flushed a little. “I don’t feel very, uh, courageous.”

Dr. Xavier smiled a little sadly. “Yes, that’s often the case. We humans tend to feel our least brave when we’re being our bravest.”

Bucky didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just shrugged. It kind of made sense, he thought. People always thought he was brave for joining the Army, for going into firefights, but every time he jumped into battle he mostly felt like pissing himself.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, and you can ask any questions you have about me, and we’ll go from there?” Dr. Xavier suggested. Bucky relaxed further into his seat. This didn’t seem like an interrogation. It felt more like a blind date, almost, although the thought made Bucky want to snort a little. Dr. Xavier was pretty old.

But Bucky discovered, over the next hour, that he could actually _talk_ to Dr. Xavier. It seemed so strange; Bucky would have thought telling his life story to a stranger would be impossible, but it actually felt easier than telling people he knew well. It helped that he knew it was Dr. Xavier’s job to listen. He might’ve been judging Bucky for what he was saying, but he wasn’t showing a bit of it—his face stayed open and interested the entire hour Bucky spoke.

Bucky left with biweekly appointments for the next month and a weight off his shoulders. He’d been anxious about this for the last week, and it had turned out fine. Better than fine—he felt great.

His phone chirped at him. It had been doing that so much lately, and he wasn’t totally used to it. For the last five years, Bucky’s only texts and phone calls were from work, people asking him to switch shifts, Connie scrambling for someone at the last minute when someone was out sick. He didn’t have many friends, and he didn’t give his phone number to hook-ups.

But now it was almost constantly pinging with messages. He had messages in the group text with his sisters, and he had individual texts from his sisters outside the group message, and he’d given Tim his number so now he got texts from all the high school kids. Every now and then he’d even get a text from Tim’s phone that was just a string of emoticons, and he’d learned that meant it was Natasha or Clint.

Bucky hadn’t heard from Steve in a week. He told himself that was what he’d wanted. He’d been the one to say they couldn’t be anything, wasn’t he? Besides, he still hadn’t completely worked out how he felt about Steve doing a 180 and wanting to try dating him after avoiding him for that last week or so in Salzburg.

Bucky read the text from Becca reminding him they were meeting up for lunch and smiled at her fist emoji. It was her way of threatening him if he was late. He found her easily inside the café, because she was wearing a bright yellow shirt.

“Wow, Becks,” he said as he gave her a hug. He didn’t used to hug his sisters every time he saw them, but five years apart had changed that. “That is bright.”

“I know,” she said, a little wearily. “But Libby bought it for me, so…” She shrugged and Bucky laughed. She pointed at him. “You laugh now, but she’s been waiting five years to hunt for clothes for you. Look out. Sadie’s so glad Libby’s going to focus on you now.”

Bucky groaned a little, but he couldn’t help but grin. He couldn’t imagine himself being too torn up over an ugly shirt if his little sister bought it for him.

“So?” Becca asked after they got their food and sat down. “Did it go alright?”

“It was actually…really good,” he told her. “I’m going to start going twice a week.”

Becca beamed at him. “Bucky, that’s so great.”

He shrugged a little self-consciously. “Yeah, well, it couldn’t have made things much worse, could it?”

She threw a fry at him. “You’re allowed to be excited when things go well, you know.”

“Sorry, I thought I _left_ my therapy session,” he teased, popping the fry into his mouth. She made an irritated sound and stole one off his plate. He rolled his eyes at her. He thought he heard his phone buzz, so he dug it out of his bag. Nothing. He set it on the table beside him.

Becca had her eyebrows raised when he looked back at her. “What?” He asked defensively.

“Who you waiting to hear from?” She asked.

“I’m not—just, you know. It could be Libby or Sadie.”

“Bucky.”

“Sometimes the kids I worked with this summer text me.”

“Oh,” Becca said knowingly.

“Oh what?”

“Oh, you’re waiting for Steve to text you.”

Bucky huffed. “No, I’m not. Steve’s not going to text me. It’s all too complicated.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Becca asked. “He’s not your boss anymore, right? So what’s so complicated about it?”

Bucky sighed and looked out the window. A woman was bent down, tying her kid’s shoe, and the kid was picking his nose like there was no tomorrow.

“Bucky,” Becca said, firmer this time. “What happened?”

He looked down at his plate. “We slept together.”

“Yeah, you already told me that part. What else?”

He winced a little. “Well, he didn’t talk to me for about a week afterward.”

“What.” Becca’s voice was flat. Dangerous. Bucky looked up and saw anger written all of her face. Bucky was the older brother, but everyone in their neighborhood growing up knew not to mess with any of Becca Barnes’s siblings or she’d practically kill you.

“The whole thing was—”

“Do not say _complicated_ again,” she ordered.

Bucky sighed again. “His wife died a year ago,” he told her. “And he kinda freaked out about everything. Felt like—you know, he was being unfaithful to her memory or whatever.”

“That’s his problem,” Becca said harshly. “He doesn’t get to treat you like shit because he had a freak out.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes with his hand. “Well, I ran away before he could even try to fix anything. You know me.”

Becca’s face was heartbreakingly sad as she processed that. “Bucky,” she breathed. He blinked a few times and looked away. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Hey,” she said. “You came back. I know you’re going to feel guilty about leaving until the day you die, but you came back to us and that’s what stands out to me. Okay? And guess what else? You said he didn’t talk to you for about a week. That’s plenty of time for him to try to fix things with you.”

“His wife just died, Becks,” Bucky pointed out. She squeezed his hand.

“And that’s really sad. But that doesn’t get him off the hook for doing that to you. You feel bad enough about yourself. I won’t let anyone else make you feel worse. What’s this guy’s address? I’m gonna go kick his ass.”

Bucky laughed shakily. Becca squeezed his hand again and let go. “What about you?” Bucky asked. “You been breaking hearts around Brooklyn while I wasn’t around to chase the boys away from you?”

Becca scoffed. “More like get to them first before I could.”

“That was _one_ time and I’ve been apologizing since high school for that!”

Becca threw her head back and laughed, and Bucky felt his throat get tight again. His sister had the ugliest laugh in the entire world, and he’d missed hearing it. She snorted, predictably, and he started laughing at her. But because he was laughing, she laughed harder, and they got caught in a cycle. They were getting looks from other people.

“I missed ya, Buchanan,” Becca said once they got themselves under control.

“I missed you too,” he promised. “I really, really did.”

“I know,” she murmured. “But it’s okay now.”

  
Bucky woke up on the first day of classes to a text on his phone. He blinked a few times before swiping it and flinching at the bright light.

_I don’t know if it’s okay for me to text you but I know it’s your first day and I just wanted to tell you I hope you have a good day._

Steve. Bucky swallowed hard. He had a weird feeling in his stomach—a combination of butterflies and a pit at seeing Steve’s name. He read the message five times before he sighed and decided to hold off making a decision on both the content and his feelings until it wasn't so 5:30 am. Christ, Steve.

Later, after he’d showered and eaten breakfast and was more awake, he opened his phone to the message and stared at it for a while, finally opting to thumb out _thanks_ in response. It didn’t say anything about what Steve was sort of asking—whether or not they could talk—but at least he wasn’t completely leaving Steve hanging.

Steve didn’t respond, and Bucky found himself irritated even though he knew it was silly. He’d sent back a one-word answer; Steve probably felt like Bucky was giving him the brush-off. Bucky was the one who ran; Bucky was the one who said they couldn’t be in a relationship.

But still. He thought of waking up that first day, bed beside him warm from Steve, and the sinking feeling in his stomach as Steve avoided him. He thought of Becca’s words—he had time to fix things—and felt himself getting angrier and angrier.

He stewed through his classes, paying attention to nothing but the speech he was writing in his head to give Steve. It involved a lot of _you think you can just_ s and ranting. But the second his last class finished up and he could call Steve to deliver the speech, the wind went out of his sails. He thought of the lost look on Steve’s face when he walked into his office, he thought of how it would feel to love someone and marry them only for them to die, he thought of how guilty Steve must have felt about everything, and he couldn’t do it.

He would let things lie.

The universe, of course, had other ideas. Tim called him just as he was heading into work.

“Hey, what’s up?” Bucky asked.

“We’ve got a football game Friday,” Tim told him. “You gonna come?”

Bucky paused. Steve would be there. There was no way around that. But he missed those kids, and he’d already missed Tim’s birthday. Plus, he knew Tim was a little self-conscious about being older than everyone else in his class because he’d missed a whole year of school when he ran away from a foster home. He was eighteen and still in high school, and Bucky didn’t want him to feel any worse.

“Course I’m gonna come,” Bucky said. “What time?”

  
Bucky’s sisters were coming with him for moral support. “You are not allowed to be rude to Steve,” he hissed at Becca. “Promise me.”

“I’m not promising that,” she scoffed. “I’ll treat that asshole the way I treat any other assholes.”

“Becca,” Bucky said, pained. “He’s not an asshole. He’s pretty genuinely one of the most polite people on earth. Just—I don’t want him to think I’m still mad.”

“You should still be mad,” Becca argued. Sadie came around the corner before they could continue the conversation.

“Where are these eleven kids?” She asked.

“Well, three of them will be on the field,” Bucky said. “But look for eight random kids and a big beefy blond guy.”

“Found them!” Libby crowed. Bucky felt like he might throw up. The last time he’d seen Steve, they’d been busy killing people. Steve had had blood spattered on his face.

But there he was, all cleaned up, waving cautiously. Sam and Maria were there, too, and a bunch of the kids were pointing at him and yelling excitedly.

“Hi, guys,” Bucky said. “Uh, these are my sisters, Becca, Sadie, and Libby.”

Natasha looked curiously at the knit spider on Libby’s shirt. “I like your shirt,” she said.

“Thank you,” Libby said brightly. “Bucky thinks it’s ugly.”

Bucky shrugged unapologetically. “It’s a spider.”

“Just because you’re afraid of spiders,” Sadie said, rolling her eyes.

“I am not!”

“Hey, man,” Sam greeted him.

“You guys came from D.C. to watch a football game?” Bucky asked. Sam shrugged.

“When the kids ask, I come.”

“Me too, I guess,” Bucky said with a little laugh.

“You look good, Bucky,” Maria told him. “Look like you’ve slept and showered.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks.”

And of course, there was only space to sit by Steve. Becca glared and shoved in between Bucky and Steve.

“Hi,” Steve said politely, sticking out his hand. “I’m Steve.”

“Becca,” she said coldly. Steve looked a little taken aback.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky cut in.

“Hi, Buck,” Steve said quietly. He looked—hopeful? He smiled a little when their eyes met. “You do look good.” He blushed after he said it and Bucky tried to reign in the butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I’m going to a therapist.”

“That’s great,” Steve said.

“So Steve, what do you do?” Becca interrupted. Steve jumped a little.

“Oh—I’m actually between jobs right now.”

“You are?” Bucky asked.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly stay with SHIELD after what happened,” Steve said, mouth twisting sourly. “Sharon wants me to join the CIA with her, but…I don’t think so.”

“What will you do?” Bucky asked, concerned. Steve probably didn’t need to work, money-wise, but Steve was the kind of guy who _needed_ to work.

“I actually think I might go to college,” Steve said, a little shy. “I never went before. I told Tim we could go together.”

Bucky laughed a little. “He’d love that, I’m sure.” Tim liked Steve, but it would be a little strange trying to let loose and be irresponsible with your parent-figure hovering beside you at parties.

“What would you study?” Becca butted in. Bucky gave her a look. Her tone was not polite interest. It was challenging and rude.

“Art,” Steve said confidently. “I always promised my mom I’d go to art school. I used to draw the weather for her when she was too sick to go outside.”

Bucky felt Becca droop a little beside him, clearly feeling a little bad about being so prickly. He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes a little.

“Bucky!” Thor called, leaning over everyone. “Steve said we can get a puppy soon!”

“Really?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” Jacques countered. “He said _maybe_ we can _talk about_ getting a puppy. That means we’re _never_ getting a puppy.”

Bucky laughed and Steve groaned a little. “Guys, it doesn’t mean never. I’m just saying, it depends on what I do. It wouldn’t be nice for the puppy if we traveled a lot and left it all alone, would it?”

“We could take the puppy with us,” Clint pouted. “I would never ever leave the puppy all alone.”

“I’ll come visit and play with the puppy and then leave all the work for you,” Sam promised. Natasha stuck her tongue out at him. Steve was saved from any more negotiating by the announcer telling them to cheer for the home team. They obliged him. And then some.

“Damn,” Becca said in Bucky’s ear. “These kids are loud.”

“You should hear them first thing in the morning when you’re trying to sleep in,” Bucky shot back. “Besides, you’ve got Libby, and she’s almost as bad.”

Libby stuck her head around Bruce to give Bucky a dirty look. “I heard that.”

Sadie was deeply engrossed through most of the game in a conversation with Maria about God only knew what. They looked incredibly serious, and Bucky wondered if he should be nervous, but Sam kept laughing, so maybe it was okay.

Tim played almost the entire game without coming out, since he was a bit bigger than most of the other kids and a little stronger just from being older. Rhodey caught a touch-down pass right in the end zone, and their whole row in the bleachers exploded with cheers.

“My best friend,” Tony was yelling. “That’s my best friend!”

Even Gabe, just a freshman, got to go in toward the end, because their team was so far ahead. Steve snapped pictures and took video the whole time, and when the game finally ended, the fans spilled onto the field.

Tim, Rhodey, and Gabe came over, flushed and smiling.

“There’s our heroes!” Tony yelled. Rhodey rolled his eyes.

“Hang on,” Steve instructed. “Let me get a picture of you three together.”

“Steve,” Tim whined.

“It’s the first game of the season!” Steve protested. “Come on, just stand together.”

He got his picture, but then Sam wanted one before they moved, and then Bucky thought, why not? So he took one, too, and the three football players were thoroughly annoyed by the end.

“You came,” Tim said to Bucky.

“Hey, I promised, didn’t I?” Bucky asked. Tim opened his mouth, smirking a little, and Bucky pointed a finger in his face. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hi,” Tim said, looking at Libby and raising an eyebrow.

“Hello,” she said back, looking him up and down. Bucky groaned.

“Are you kidding me? Come on.”

“I’m Libby,” she said, giving Bucky a dirty look.

Bucky shook his head as they went on talking. Steve, beside him, laughed. “Well, they’re the same age, aren’t they? Maybe she’s dazzled him with being in college.”

“At least he’s a good kid,” Bucky allowed. Steve smiled softly at that.

“Yeah, he is.”

There was a little awkward pause. Bucky watched Becca crouch down beside Clint to hear whatever wild story he was telling and look appropriately impressed. She was even managing to mediate when Natasha interrupted and bossily tried to take over telling the story.

Sadie was speaking in French with Jacques—when did Sadie learn French? She must’ve taken classes in college or something. Bucky hadn’t known she’d known any other languages. And Libby was still talking to Tim, though Rhodey, Tony, and Bruce had joined them.

“I’m sorry if my text was out of line,” Steve said quietly. “I don’t want to…push myself in where I’m not wanted.”

Bucky blew out a breath. “It’s fine.”

They were quiet again. “Was that okay, though?” Steve asked. “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

Bucky thought it over. He thought of the way his heart leapt when he saw Steve’s name. But he also thought of his reaction when Steve didn’t reply—how angry he’d been, how his whole brain had gone to thinking about why Steve was ignoring him, the way he’d been hurt and thought _here we go again_.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Bucky finally murmured. He saw Steve’s face fall a little and tried to ignore the way his chest ached at the sight.

“Okay,” Steve said. “That’s fair.”

But as Bucky said his goodbyes to the kids and made his way to the train with his sisters, he wondered if it was.

“They’re cute kids,” Sadie said. “I swear, I want to take Clint home.”

“Natasha seems like a handful,” Libby laughed.

“They’re all a handful,” Bucky said on autopilot. He couldn’t get Steve’s disappointed face out of his mind, or the way Steve’s eyes lit up when he laughed with Bucky. He still had Steve’s shirt. He didn’t know what to do with it. It was balled up on his desk chair, and he definitely did not pause by it occasionally to see if it still smelled like Steve.

“Hey,” Becca said, spooking him a little with how close she was.

“Hey,” he said back.

“I was a little rude to Steve.”

“You were pretty rude to Steve,” Bucky corrected.

“He was nice, though.”

“I told you he would be.”

“Are you gonna date Steve?” Libby butted in. Bucky felt his stomach clench at the question.

“He’s definitely into you,” Sadie agreed. “And we could all see you’re into him.”

Bucky huffed. “Nice to know my poker face is so good.”

“You both looked like the heart eyes emoji when you looked at each other,” Libby said. “You should ask him out.” She wiggled her eyebrows and then went back to asking Sadie about Maria.

Bucky let out a long breath. “You didn’t tell them?” He whispered to Becca.

She shrugged. “Not mine to tell.”

They dropped the subject, but when Bucky was leaving the house to go back to his dorm, Becca stopped him at the door.

“Bucky…I don’t like that he didn’t talk to you after you slept together. That’s like…I don’t know, almost emotional manipulation levels of shitty.”

“That’s not what he—”

“I know,” Becca cut him off gently. “I know he didn’t mean it. But I was mad at him. I hated him without even knowing him.”

“And you’ve changed your mind now that you know he’s a beefcake boy scout?” Bucky asked. Actually, Steve had a lot of thoughts about the Boy Scouts, and they weren’t positive.

“I changed my mind when I saw the way you guys looked at each other,” she told him softly. “I think he really cares about you. And that still wouldn’t change my mind, except…I can tell you really care about him.”

Bucky looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know what would happen if I tried again with him,” he admitted.

“But do you want to find out?” Becca asked. Bucky didn’t know what to say. She hugged him tightly. “It’s up to you. You get to decide what to do.”

He thought about it all the way back to his dorm. He thought about it while he brushed his teeth. He thought about it while he stared at Steve’s shirt on his chair and reread Steve’s message for the millionth time. And then he got tired of thinking about it and he dialed the phone.

“Hi,” Steve answered, sounding a little confused.

“Do you want to go out on a date with me?” Bucky asked.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You and me. A date. Next weekend. I was thinking dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked cautiously. “I thought you said it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Just a date, Steve,” Bucky said. “I—I’m a little nervous, after everything that happened, so…I mean, let’s take it slow. But I like you. And I think I’d like to try going out on a date.”

“I like you, too,” Steve said, and Bucky could hear the smile in his voice. “And I’d love to try going out on a date with you.”

“Alright then,” Bucky said.

“Alright then,” Steve echoed, and Bucky didn’t know if he’d ever stop smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the last chapter. Thanks for reading and commenting, guys!

Bucky fidgeted in line. There were four people in front of him, thanks to the alphabet and his last name. He closed his eyes and did one of the breathing exercises Dr. Xavier taught him, letting his shoulders drop and relax as he exhaled. The line was going pretty fast, and it was almost his turn. He rolled his neck.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” the department co-chair read. Bucky took a deep breath and walked out to the stage. Fury was waiting with his (empty) diploma holder, and Bucky focused on him. He couldn’t help it though—the sound of all the cheering coming from the crowd made him glance over.

His cheering section took up an entire row in the auditorium. His sisters were front and center, and he couldn’t really tell but he was pretty sure Sadie was bawling and Becca was holding back tears. Libby stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle, the way Bucky had taught her when he was thirteen and she couldn’t whistle the regular way.

Filling in the rest of the row around the girls were Steve and the kids, and Sam and Maria. All seventeen of them were on their feet, stomping and screaming and cheering, and Bucky laughed a little. Fury raised an eyebrow when Bucky got to him and they paused for the photo op, just as Bucky had been instructed, though the handshake-handoff combination had to be modified because Bucky couldn’t accept his diploma and shake hands with only one hand.

“Congratulations, Barnes,” Fury said. Bucky thought he might’ve even detected a smile.

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky said. “For…everything.”

“My pleasure,” Fury told him.  
  
The downside of being so early in the alphabet was Bucky had to sit there waiting for everyone else to be done. He couldn’t even admire his name on his diploma because he wouldn’t be getting it for a few weeks, and he couldn’t see into the audience sitting back in the graduates’ seats because of the lights on the stage.

Bucky slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the worry stone he had. Steve had given it to him just before finals.

“My ma gave it to me before she died,” he’d said softly. “To help me stay calm no matter what happened.”

Bucky had held it reverently. “Steve, I can’t take this,” he’d protested. Steve had given him a little smile, blushing a little.

“Well, you can just hang onto it for a while,” he’d said. “And maybe I’ll get it back when I need it.”

Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach again, but not because he was worried about tripping in front of a few hundred people. Remembering Steve’s words made his chest warm. He could sort of tell they had a little more to them underneath—it was a big gesture anyway, giving him something that had belonged to his mother, but the way he’d said _hang onto it for a while_ told Bucky he was planning on them being together for a while.

Bucky was planning on that, too. A while. Or longer.

Over the last four months, they’d taken things slow, desperately slow; they started out only seeing each other once every two weeks or so. It had only been in the last month that they’d been seeing each other every day, and they still hadn’t slept together since that night in Austria, Steve’s birthday. They’d fallen asleep together more times than Bucky could count, and Bucky even stayed over some nights, but they hadn’t done anything, physically speaking, besides a lot of making out and some groping.

The part Bucky was most afraid of was the kids’ reactions. His sisters were happy, of course—Becca was a little more hesitant than Sadie and Libby in terms of unbridled joy, but it didn’t take long for her to admit that Steve seemed to be sticking around for the long haul this time—and Sam and Maria were supportive. Even Jarvis noticed Bucky sneaking out early one morning and smiled. Dr. Xavier thought they were right to go slow. Steve had even come to some sessions with Bucky, and he’d started seeing a therapist on his own with the combined efforts of Sam and Bucky prompting him. Bucky wasn’t the only one who had things to work out in his own life before he could really be ready to open up to someone else.

But they still hadn’t told any of the kids about their relationship. Bucky just wasn’t sure how they’d react. Did they even know Steve was bisexual? Bucky had never said anything to them about his own sexuality. Steve was pretty open with them, but Bucky couldn’t imagine he talked about his sex life with them, not even the older kids. Bucky hadn’t even told Libby and Sadie he and Steve had already slept together, and Sadie was old enough to buy her own alcohol if she wanted.

The ceremony finally ended, and Bucky submitted to some photos with the other teachers from his program. They’d all taken their state exams, and Bucky knew he’d passed. He’d been hired as a languages tutor at one of the prestigious private schools for the rest of the school year, and he’d start looking for full-time teaching positions in the spring. Fury had confided in him that his tutoring position would very likely translate to a full-time position, “if,” Fury had said dryly, “you don’t leave this job early.”

Bucky didn’t see that happening, since he wasn’t going to sleep with anyone there.

He made his way out of the auditorium and caught an armful of ecstatic Libby in about five seconds flat. He laughed and gave her a squeeze. Becca and Sadie joined in for a group hug, and Bucky noticed Steve snapping a picture. He smiled at him gratefully.

“Okay, pictures,” Steve said as Sam took Bucky’s diploma from him so his hand would be free. “You four, look at me.”

Next Bucky took a picture with the eleven kids, then with Sam, then with Sam and Maria and Steve, then with the kids and Steve and Sam and Maria, and then they grabbed one of his old classmates to take a picture of their whole gigantic group.

“You should take a picture with just Steve,” Becca suggested. He’d told his sisters not to let the cat out of the bag to the kids until he and Steve figured out how to do it, so he gave her a look. She smiled innocently.

“You should!” Libby agreed.

“I’ll take it,” Sadie offered. All three of his sisters were giving him identical shit-eating grins and it made him want to laugh just because they were _here_ and he got to see them being terrible and not listening to what he’d said.

“Guys,” he murmured warningly.

“Sure, we’ll take a picture,” Steve said. “We’re friends.” He came to stand by Bucky and Bucky slung his arm congenially around his neck for the picture.

“How come you didn’t kiss?” Clint asked after they stepped apart. “I thought boyfriends was supposed to kiss each other.”

Steve and Bucky gaped at him.

“Sometimes people don’t like to kiss in public,” Tim explained to him. “Especially boyfriends because some people don’t like gay people.”

“But that’s silly,” Natasha protested, her new go-to word since Steve had banned _stupid_ and _dumb_.

“You guys know?” Steve asked. Tony snorted.

“It’s a little hard to sneak around in a house with thirteen people living there,” he pointed out. “As I learned.” He looked slightly mournful about that, because Pepper was proving a little reluctant to keep their summer romance going when they both had school and college applications to focus on. She was driven; no one could deny that.

“Was it a secret?” Monty asked, sounding confused.

“It wasn’t a very _good_ secret,” Thor criticized. “I saw you kissing yesterday.”

“I woke up in the middle of the night last week and you were asleep on the couch,” Bruce offered. “Cuddling.”

“Isn’t that why Bucky went away during the summer?” Jacques asked. “’Cause you guys liked each other?”

“Uh…” Steve shot Bucky a look.

“Something like that,” Bucky agreed. Tony snorted. He’d witnessed the last little blowup between Steve and Bucky and was old enough to put some puzzle pieces together.

“Why’d you want to keep it a secret from us?” Jim asked. “ _We_ like gay people.”

“I don’t like _all_ gay people,” Clint protested. “Mr. Jenkins at school has a boyfriend but I don’t like him.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and Becca started to laugh, the little giggles that meant she was trying to hold it in. This conversation was starting to spiral kind of rapidly.

“We just weren’t sure how you guys would take it,” Bucky said, making a mental note to talk to Clint about why he didn't like his teacher and the difference between not liking someone's personality and being bigoted.

“What do you mean?” Gabe asked. “Why wouldn’t we be happy? We like you.”

“I like you the _most_ ,” Natasha broke in, just as a reminder.

“Well, I’m glad,” Bucky said. “I like you guys, too. But I didn’t want you guys to think I was going to steal Steve away from you or anything like that.”

“Steal him away where?” Rhodey asked. “He lives with us.”

“He means take up all Steve’s time so we don’t get to hang out with him anymore,” Tim said, adopting the know-it-all tone of oldest children everywhere. "Old people always worry about stuff like that."

“But now we get to hang out with Steve _and_ you,” Thor pointed out. “It’s better.”

“Wow, thanks,” Steve muttered.

“Maybe you watched too many TV shows about kids and their parents dating,” Maria teased. “They don’t seem to mind.”

“I told you my theory was right,” Sam sang. “More of a big brother than a dad.”

“So we can stop pretending you’re not dating?” Sadie checked. “Because that was annoying to make sure I wasn’t saying boyfriend.”

A laugh bubbled its way out of Bucky’s throat. This was so not what he was expecting from this night. Steve smiled at him ruefully.

“Guess the cat’s outta the bag, huh?”

“It’s a little embarrassing we weren’t sneakier,” Bucky told him. “I was a sniper and you were a spy.”

“I guess maybe part of us didn’t want to keep it a secret,” Steve said, a dopey sort of smile on his face. Bucky scoffed at how sappy Steve was being, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his own face.

“Are you gonna get married?” Natasha demanded. “Only _I_ get to be flower girl and _no one else_. I call dibs.” The older kids had been touching the younger ones about dibs for weeks. So far Clint had dibs on going to the Olympics in archery and Jacques had dibs on being prime minister of France. They maybe didn’t fully understand the concept.

“Okay!” Steve changed the subject, face bright red and voice a little high-pitched. “Who’s ready to go eat ice cream?”

“I want _pizza_ ,” Clint complained.

“You already ate dinner,” Libby reminded him. “We all did.”

“But I’m hungry again.”

“So am I,” Gabe offered.

“Growing kids,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Plus that took forever. We should get pizza and then ice cream.”

Thor cheered. “This is why it’s better when Bucky’s here!” He confided.

“Uh oh,” Becca laughed. “What’s gonna happen when the bribes wear thin?”

“They never will,” Bucky informed her. “That’s my only trick.”

Bucky pulled off his cap and gown, after Steve and the girls took a few more pictures of him in them, and then they walked a few blocks to the pizza place close to campus. But Natasha got tired of walking and insisted it was absolutely necessary she ride on Bucky’s shoulders (“I call dibs!”), and then they had to stop for Libby to take a picture of a shrub someone had trimmed into the shape of a person, and Thor got distracted by an owl hooting from a tree somewhere.

“It’s like herding cats,” Steve said, exasperated, when they finally got everyone inside the restaurant and corralled into a table. Bucky glanced at the tables the waitress had pushed together to fit all of them. Everyone was gathering around, taking their seats, talking and laughing, and he and Steve were still hanging back by the door.

Bucky watched as Becca showed Monty and Jim how to shoot their straw wrappers at Thor and Jacques and encouraged Thor and Jacques to fight back; Sadie started a thumb war with Clint; Sam, Tim, and Gabe pored very seriously over a menu, discussing the merits of different sauces; Libby rolled her eyes at something Tony said and pushed him into Bruce; Rhodey and Maria helped Natasha choose crayons from the children’s activity pack.

Then he looked at Steve, standing close to him, so handsome and earnest and _wonderful_ , and his throat felt a little tight with all the emotions he was suddenly feeling. He leaned in close and kissed Steve softly.

“They’re good cats to herd,” he murmured. Steve smiled at him, open and affectionate, and Bucky had to kiss him again. “Let’s herd them together for a while, huh?”

The way Steve’s smile grew was like watching a sunrise—it was a little slow, but it lit up the room. Steve leaned in again and kissed Bucky. “Yeah,” he whispered. “For a while.”

And for once, Bucky didn’t worry about how long the moment would last. He just let himself be happy.


End file.
